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http://www.archive.org/details/fanaticsOOdunbrich 


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Fanatic  5% 

Paul  Laurence  Dunbar  ^ 

Author  of  -g* 

'*  Lyrics  of  Lowly  Lifcy'*  **  Poems    ^ 

of  Cabin  and  Field;'  ''Folks      ^ 

from  Dixie,''  et  cetera,  '^ 

^^ 


m 


^  New  York  ^ 

#  Bodd,  Mead  ^  Company  ^# 

m  ^ 


Copyright,  igoi. 
By  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company. 


TO  MY  FEIEND 

EDWIN  HENRY  KEEN 


Contents 


CHAP. 

I.  LOVE  AND  POLITICS 

II.  THE  PAKTING  OF  TWO  WAYS 

III.  PREPARATION 

IV.  SONS  AND  FATHERS 
V.  "  THE  POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE 

VI.  A  LONE  FIGHT 

VII.  DIVIDED  HOUSES     . 

VIII.  AS  A  MAN  THINKETH  IN  HIS  HEART 

IX.  A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT 

X.  SORROW  MAY  LAST  FOR  A  NIGHT 

XI.  AT  HOME  .... 

XII.  A  JOURNEY  SOUTH 

XIII.  A  STEWART  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN 

XIV.  THE  CONTRABANDS 
XV.  LICENSE  OR  LIBERTY       . 

XVI.  DOLLY  AND  WALTER 

XVII.  WHEN  LOVE  STANDS  GUARD 

XVIII.  AN  AFFAIR  OF  HONOR    . 


PAGB 
1 

8 

17 

28 

51 

62 

73 

84 

99 

109 

121 

131 

143 

155 

178 

190 

201 

216 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGB 

XIX.  JUSTICE 228 

XX.  THE  VISION  OF  THE  BLACK  EIDER  245 

XXI.  A  VAGUE  QUEST        ....  256 

XXII.  THE  HOMECOMING  OF  THE  CAPTAIN  266 

XXIII.  A  TROUBLESOME  SECRET  .  .  280 

XXIV.  ROBERT  VAN  DOREN  GOES  HOME    .  290 
XXV.  CONCLUSION 305 


The  Fanatics 

CHAPTER  I 

LOVE   AND   POLITICS 

The  warmth  of  the  April  sunshine  had  brought 
out  the  grass,  and  Mary  Waters  and  Bob  Yan 
Doren  trod  it  gleefully  beneath  their  feet  as  they 
wended  their  way  homeward  from  the  outskirts 
of  the  town,  where  Mary  had  gone  ostensibly  to 
look  for  early  spring  blossoms  and  where  Bob 
had  followed  her  in  quest  of  a  pet  setter  that 
was  not  lost. 

The  little  town  was  buzzing  with  excitement 
as  the  young  people  entered  it,  but  they  did  not 
notice  it,  for  a  sweeter  excitement  was  burning 
in  their  hearts. 

Bob  and  Mary  had  been  engaged  for  three 
months,  a  long  time  in  those  simple  days  in 
Ohio,  where  marriages  were  often  affairs  of  a 
glance,  a  word  and  a  parent's  blessing.  The 
parent's  blessing  in  this  case  had  been  forthcom- 

1 


2  THE  FANATICS 

ing  too,  for  while  the  two  widowed  fathers  could 
not  agree  politically,  Stephen  Van  Doren  being 
a  staunch  Democrat,  and  Bradford  Waters  as 
staunch  a  Eepublican,  yet  they  had  but  one  mind 
as  to  the  welfare  of  their  children. 

They  had  loud  and  long  discussions  on  the  ques- 
tion of  slavery  and  kindred  subjects,  but  when  it 
came  to  shaking  hands  over  the  union  of  Bob  and 
Mary,  they  were  as  one.  They  had  fallen  out 
over  the  Missouri  Compromise  and  quarrelled 
vigorously  over  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law;  but 
Stephen  had  told  his  son  to  go  in  and  win,  for 
there  was  not  a  better  girl  in  the  village  than 
Mary,  and  Bradford  had  said  "  Yes  "  to  Bob  when 
he  came. 

On  this  day  as  the  young  people  passed  down 
Main  street,  oblivious  of  all  save  what  was  in 
their  hearts,  some  people  who  stood  on  the  out- 
skirts of  a  crowd  that  was  gathered  about  the 
courthouse  snickered  and  nudged  each  other. 

"  Curious  combination,"  old  man  Thorne  said 
to  his  nearest  neighbor,  who  was  tiptoeing  to  get 
a  glimpse  into  the  middle  of  the  circle. 

"What's  that?" 

"  Look  a-there,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  lovers 
who  had  passed  on  down  the  street. 

" Geewhillikens,"  said  the  onlooker,  "what 
a  pity  somebody  didn't  call  their  attention ; 
wouldn't  it '  a'  been  a  contrast,  though  ?  " 


LOVE  AND  POLITICS  8 

"  It  would  '  a'  been  worse  than  a  contras' ;  it 
would  '  a'  been  a  broken  engagement,  an'  perhaps 
a  pair  o'  broken  hearts.  Well,  of  all  fools,  as  the 
sayin'  is,  a  ol  fool  is  the  worst." 

"  An'  a  Southern  fool  up  North  who  has  grown 
old  in  the  South,"  said  Johnson,  who  was  some- 
what of  a  curbstone  politician. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Thome  placidly, 
"different  people  has  different  ways  o'  thinkin'." 

"  But  when  you're  in  Kome,  do  as  Kome  does," 
returned  Johnson. 

"  Most  men  carries  their  countries  with  them. 
The  Dutchman  comes  over  here,  but  he  still  eats 
his  sauerkraut." 

"Oh,  plague  take  that.  America  for  the 
Americans,  I  say,  and  Ohio  for  the  Ohioans. 
Old  Waters  is  right." 

"  How  long  you  been  here  from  York  state  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  ain't  in  the  question." 

"Oh,  certainly  not.  It's  alius  a  matter  o' 
whose  ox  is  gored." 

The  matter  within  the  circle  which  had  awak- 
ened Mr.  Johnson's  sense  of  contrast  was  a  hot 
debate  which  was  just  about  terminating.  Two 
old  men,  their  hats  off  and  their  faces  flushed, 
were  holding  forth  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 
One  was  Stephen  Van  Doren,  and  the  other  was 
Bradford  Waters. 

The  former  had  come  up  from  Virginia  some- 


4  THE  FANATICS 

time  in  the  forties,  and  his  ideas  were  still  the 
ideas  of  the  old  South.  He  was  a  placid,  gentle- 
manly old  man  with  a  soldierly  bearing  and 
courtly  manners,  but  his  opinions  were  most 
decided,  and  he  had  made  bitter  enemies  as  well 
as  strong  friends  in  the  Ohio  town.  The  other 
was  the  typical  Yankee  pioneer,  thin,  wiry  and 
excitable.  He  was  shouting  now  into  his  op- 
ponent's face,  "  Go  back  down  South,  go  back  to 
Virginia,  and  preach  those  doctrines ! " 

"They've  got  sense  enough  to  know  them 
down  there.  It's  only  up  here  to  gentlemen  like 
you  that  they  need  to  be  preached." 

"  You  talk  about  secession,  you,  you !  I'd  like 
to  see  you  build  a  fence  unless  the  rails  would  all 
stand  together — one  rail  falling  this  way,  and 
another  pulling  that." 

The  crowd  laughed. 

"  I'd  like  you  to  show  me  a  hand  where  one 
finger  wasn't  independent  of  another  in  an  emer- 
gency." 

"  Build  a  fence,"  shouted  Waters. 

"  Pick  up  a  pin  !  "  answered  Yan  Doren. 

"  You're  trying  to  ruin  the  whole  country ; 
you're  trying  to  stamp  on  the  opinions  that  the 
country  has  lived  for  and  fought  for  and  died 
for " 

"Seven  states  have  seceded,  and  I  think  in 
some  of  those  seven  were  men  who  lived  and 


LOYE  AND  POLITICS  5 

fought  and  even  died  for  their  country.  Yes, 
sir,  I  tell  you,  Yankee  as  you  are,  to  your  face, 
the  South  has  done  for  this  country  what  you 
buying  and  selling,  making  and  trading  Yankees 
have  never  done.  You  have  made  goods,  but  the 
South  has  produced  men."  The  old  man  was 
warmed  up. 

"  Men,  men,  we  can  equal  any  you  bring." 

"  Calhoun ! " 

"  Sumner ! " 

"  Clay ! " 

"Webster!" 

"  We  shall  claim  Douglass ! " 

"  Lincoln ! " 

"  I  should  have  said  the  South  produced  gen- 
tlemen, not  rail-splitters.  We  don't  make  states- 
men of  them." 

"  We  produce  men,  and  we'd  make  soldiers  of 
them  if  it  was  necessary." 

"  Well,  it  may  be." 

"Oh,  no,  it  won't.  Even  the  state  that  gave 
birth  to  men  like  you,  Stephen  Yan  Doren, 
wouldn't  dare  to  raise  its  hand  against  the 
Union." 

"  Wait  and  see." 

"  Wait  and  see !  I  don't  need  to  wait  and  see. 
I  know." 

"Bah,  you're  all  alike,  dreamers,  dreamers, 
dreamers." 


6  THE  FA:^ATICS 

"  Dreamers,  maybe,  but  my  God,  don't  wake 
us!" 

The  crowd  began  to  break  as  it  saw  that  the 
argument  was  over,  and  the  bystanders  whis- 
pered and  laughed  among  themselves  at  the  vehe- 
mence of  the  two  men. 

"Wind-bags." 

"  Time  wasted  listening." 

"  War — pshaw ! " 

Just  then  a  newsboy  tore  into  the  square  shout- 
ing, "  Paper,  paper !  "  and  every  heart  stood  still 
with  ominous  dread  at  the  next  words,  "Fort 
Sumter  fired  on ! "  The  crowd  stood  still,  and 
then  with  one  accord,  formed  around  the  old 
men. 

A  slow  smile  covered  Stephen  Yan  Doren's 
lips  as  he  stood  facing  Bradford  Waters. 

"  Well,  they've  done  it,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  wavering  from  the 
shock,  "  now  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?" 

The  old  man  straightened  himself  with  sudden 
fire.  He  took  off  his  hat  and  his  thin  white 
hair  blew  hither  and  thither  in  the  cool  spring 
breeze. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to  do  about  it. 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to  do,  when  the  call 
comes,  I'm  going  down  there  and  I'll  help  whip 
them  out  of  their  boots — and  if  they  won't  take 


LOYE  AND  POLITICS  7 

me,  I'll  send  a  son.  Now  what  are  you  going  to 
do? 

"  Likewise." 

Bradford  Waters  was  known  as  a  religious 
man,  but  now  he  turned  and  raising  his  hand  to 
heaven  said, 

"  God  grant  that  we  or  our  sons  may  meet 
where  the  right  wiU  win,  you  damned  copper- 
head, you ! " 

In  an  instant  Yan  Doren's  fist  shot  out,  but 
some  one  caught  his  arm.  Waters  sprang  to- 
wards him,  but  was  intercepted,  and  the  two 
were  borne  away  by  different  crowds,  who  were 
thunderstruck  at  the  awful  calamity  which  had 
fallen  upon  the  nation. 

The  two  old  men  sweated  to  be  loosed  upon 
each  other,  but  they  were  forcibly  taken  to  their 
homes. 

Over  the  gate  of  the  Waters'  cottage.  Bob 
Yan  Doren  leaned,  and  Mary's  hand  was  in  his. 


CHAPTEK  II 

THE  PARTING   OF  THE  WAYS 

"  Don't  you  think  a  little  cottage  down  by  the 
river  would  be  the  best  thing,  Mary  ?  "  asked 
Bob. 

"And  then  you'd  be  away  from  me  every 
minute  you  could  spare  fishing.  I  know  you, 
Bob  Yan  Doren." 

From  the  inside  of  the  house  Mary's  brother 
Tom  "  twitted  "  the  two  unmercifully. 

"  1  say  there,  Bob,"  he  called,  "  you'd  better 
let  Mary  come  in  and  help  about  this  supper.  If 
you  don't,  there'll  be  a  death  when  father  comes 
home." 

Mary's  father  was  gentle  with  her,  and  this 
remark  of  her  brother's  was  so  obviously  hyper- 
bolic that  she  burst  out  laughing  as  she  flung 
back,  "  Oh,  I  guess  you've  kept  Nannie  Woods 
from  her  work  many  a  time,  and  there  haven't 
been  any  deaths  in  that  family  yet." 

"  But  there  may  be  in  this  if  Luke  Sharpies 
catches  you  sparking  around  Nannie,"  interposed 
Bob. 


THE  PARTIISrG  OF  THE  WAYS         9 

"  Oh,  I  can  attend  to  Luke  any  day." 

"  That's  so,  Luke  isn't  a  very  fast  runner." 

Tom  threw  a  corncob  out  of  the  door  and  it 
struck  Bob's  hat  and  knocked  it  off.  "  There's  an 
answer  for  you,"  he  called. 

They  were  still  laughing  and  Mary's  face  was 
flushed  with  love  and  merriment  when  Bradford 
Waters  came  up  and  strode  silently  through  the 
gateway. 

"  I  must  go  in  now,"  said  Mary. 

"  So  soon  ?  Why  it's  hardly  time  to  put  the 
potatoes  on  yet." 

"Suppose  sometimes  you  should  come  home 
and  find  your  supper  not  ready  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  mind  if  you  were  there." 

Just  then  Bradford  Waters'  voice  floated  an- 
grily out  to  them, 

"What's  that  young  whelp  hanging  around 
my  gate  for  ?  " 

The  girl  turned  pale,  and  her  heart  stood  still, 
but  the  young  man  only  laughed  and  shouted 
back,  "  What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Waters,  you  and 
father  been  at  war  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we've  been  at  war,  and  soon  we  shall 
all  be  at  war.  Some  of  your  dirty  kinsmen  have 
fired  on  Fort  Sumter." 

"  What ! " 

"  Yes,  and  there'll  be  hell  for  this  day's  work, 
you  mark  my  words."    The  old  man  came  to  the 


10  THE  FANATICS 

door  again,  and  his  son  stood  behind  him,  hold- 
ing his  arm.  "  Get  away  from  my  gate  there. 
Mary,  come  in  the  house.  I've  got  better  busi- 
ness for  you  than  skylarking  with  copperheads." 

The  girl  stood  transfixed.  "  What  is  it,  father, 
what  is  it  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  I  tell  3^ou,  those  Southern  devils  have  fired 
on  Fort  Sumter,  and  it  means  war !  Get  away 
from  here.  Bob  Van  Doren.  There  is  a  time 
when  men  must  separate  on  the  ground  of  their 
beliefs,  and  this  house  has  no  dealing  with  the 
enemies  of  the  Union,  Mary." 

But  the  girl's  eyes  were  flashing,  and  her  lips 
compressed.  "  Go  in,  Mary,"  said  Bob,  and  he 
dropped  her  hand.  His  face  was  red  and  pale 
by  turns.  She  turned  and  went  into  the  house, 
and  her  lover  left  the  gate  and  walked  down  the 
street. 

"  Let  this  be  the  last  time  I  catch  you  talking 
with  one  of  the  Yan  Dorens.  We  are  two  fami- 
lies on  opposite  sides  of  a  great  question.  We 
can  have  no  dealings,  one  with  the  other." 

"But  father,  you  gave  Bob  the  right  to  love 
me,  and  you  can't  take  it  back,  you  can't." 

"  I  can  take  it  back,  and  I  will  take  it  back. 
I'd  rather  see  you  marry  Kigger  Ed,  the  town 
crier,  than  to  cross  my  blood  with  that  Yan 
Doren  breed.  To-day,  Stephen  Yan  Doren  re- 
joiced because  his  flag  had  been  fired  upon.    The 


THE  PAKTING  OF  THE  WAYS       11 

flag  he's  living  under,  the  flag  that  protects  him 
wherever  he  goes !  " 

"  That  wasn't  Bob,  father." 

"  Like  father,  like  son,"  broke  in  Tom  passion- 
ately. 

"Why,  Tom!"  Mary  turned  her  eyes,  grief- 
filled  to  overflowing  upon  her  brother,  "you 
and  he  were  such  friends !  '* 

"  I  have  no  friends  who  are  not  the  friends  of 
my  country.  Since  I  know  what  I  know,  I 
would  not  take  Bob  Van  Doren's  hand  if  he 
were  my* brother." 

"  If  he  were  Nannie  Woods'  brother  ?  " 

"  Nannie  Woods  is  a  good  loyal  girl,  and  her 
affections  are  placed  on  a  loyal  man.  There  is 
no  division  there." 

"  Bob  is  right,  Mary.  We  have  come  to  the 
parting  of  the  ways.  Those  who  hold  with  the 
South  must  go  with  the  South.  Those  who  hold 
with  the  North  must  stand  by  the  flag.  We  are 
all  either  Union  men  or  we  are  rebels." 

"But  father,  what  of  Yallandigham ?  You 
have  always  said  that  he  was  a  noble  man." 

"  Yallandigham  ?  Let  me  never  hear  his 
name  again  !  In  this  house  it  spells  treason.  I 
can  make  some  allowance  for  the  Southerner, 
living  among  his  institutions  and  drawing  his 
life  from  them ;  but  for  the  man  who  lives  at 
the  North,  represents  Northern  people  and  fills 


12  THE  FANATICS 

his  pockets  with  the  coin  which  I^orthern  hands 
have  worked  for,  for  him,  I  have  only  contempt. 
Such  men  hide  like  copperheads  in  the  grass, 
and  sting  when  we  least  expect  it.  Weed  them 
out,  I  say,  weed  them  out ! " 

The  old  man  shook  with  the  passion  of  his 
feelings,  and  his  face  was  ashen  with  anger. 
There  had  been  a  time  when  Yallandigham  was 
his  idol.  He  had  gone  against  his  party  to  help 
vote  him  into  Congress,  and  then 

It  was  a  strangely  silent  meal  to  which  the 
three  sat  down  that  night.  Tom  was  feverishly 
anxious  to  be  out  for  news,  and  Mary  with  tear- 
stained  face  sat  looking  away  into  space.  There 
was  a  compression  about  her  lips  that  gave  her 
countenance  a  wonderful  similarity  to  her 
father's.  She  could  not  eat,  and  she  could  not 
talk,  but  her  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  events 
that  were  going  on  about  her.  How  she  hated  it 
all — the  strife,  the  turmoil,  the  bickerings  and  dis- 
agreements. The  Union,  Confederacy,  abolition, 
slavery,  the  North,  the  South ;  one  the  upper, 
the  other,  the  lower  millstone,  and  between 
them,  love  and  the  women  of  the  whole  country. 
Why  could  not  they  be  let  alone  ?  Was  there  not 
enough  to  be  sacrificed  that  even  the  budding 
flower  of  love  must  be  brought  too?  It  was 
hard,  too  hard.  She  loved  Bob  Yan  Doren. 
What  did  she  care  with  which  side  he  sympa- 


THE  PAKTING  OF  THE  WAYS       13 

thized  ?  She  loved  Bob,  not  his  politics.  What 
had  she  to  do  with  those  black  men  down  there 
in  the  South,  it  was  none  of  her  business  ?  For 
her  part,  she  only  knew  one  black  man  and  he 
was  bad  enough.  Of  course,  Nigger  Ed  was 
funny.  They  all  liked  him  and  laughed  at  him, 
but  he  was  not  exemplary.  He  filled,  with  equal 
adaptability,  the  position  of  town  crier  and  town 
drunkard.  Eeally,  if  all  his  brethren  were  like 
him,  they  would  be  none  the  worse  for  having 
masters.  Anyhow,  her  father  had  not  been 
always  so  rigid,  for  he  laughed  when  somebody 
stole  the  Bible  from  the  colored  folks'  meeting- 
house, and  wondered  what  they  could  do  with  a 
Bible  anyhow. 

Her  reverie  was  broken  by  her  brother's  rising 
from  the  table. 

"  I'm  going  out  to  see  what's  going  on,"  he 
announced. 

"  I'll  walk  up  the  street  with  you,"  said  his 
father. 

They  took  their  hats  and  went  out,  and  with  a 
grey  face,  but  set  lips,  the  daughter  went  about 
her  evening's  work. 

When  they  reached  the  courthouse  a  crowd 
was  gathered  there,  and  rumors  and  stories  of  all 
kinds  were  passing  from  lip  to  lip.  Another 
crowd  was  gathered  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street,  hooting  and  jeering,  while  now  and  then 


14  THE  FANATICS 

some  self-appointed  orator  harangued  it.  The  as- 
sembly was  composed  of  some  of  the  worst  ele- 
ments of  the  town,  reinforced  by  the  3^oung 
sports  of  some  of  the  best  families.  Altogether, 
it  was  a  combination  of  hot  blood  and  law- 
lessness. 

An  old  friend  of  the  "Waters',  who  had  been 
listening  to  the  noisier  crowd,  brushed  against 
the  two  men,  and  said  under  his  breath,  "  Come 
on  home,  there's  helFs  work  brewing  here  to- 
night." 

"  Then  I'll  stay  and  be  in  it,"  said  the  older 
man." 

"  There's  nothing  you  can  help  about,"  replied 
the  friend.     "  You'd  better  come." 

"No,  we'll  stay." 

The  lawless  element,  emboldened  at  the  news 
of  Sumter's  disaster,  determined  to  have  some 
fun  at  the*  expense  of  their  opponents.  With 
one  accord,  they  surged  towards  the  office  of  the 
Bepublican^  armed  with  horns,  and  whistled, 
hooted  and  jeered  themselves  hoarse. 

"  This  is  child's  play,"  said  Bradford  Waters 
to  his  son,"  if  this  is  all  they're  going  to  do,  we 
might  as  well  go  home." 

They  went  back  to  the  house,  where  for  hours 
they  could  hear  the  horns  and  whistles  of  the 
crowd. 

It  was  near  midnight,  when  they  were  awak- 


THE  PAKTING  OF  THE  WAYS       15 

ened  by  the  clanging  of  a  bell,  and  they  heard 
Nigger  Ed  as  he  sped  past  the  house,  crying, 
"  Fiah,  fiah !  De  ^Publican  buildin'  on  fiah,  tu'n 
out!" 

The  Waters  were  dressed  and  out  of  the  house 
in  a  twinkling  and  had  joined  the  crowd  of  men 
and  boys  who,  with  shouts  and  grunts,  were  tug- 
ging at  the  old  hose-cart.  Then  they  strained 
and  tore  their  way  to  the  Repuhlican  office 
where  the  fire  had  made  terrible  headway.  The 
hose  was  turned  on  the  building,  and  the  pumps 
started.  The  flames  crackled  and  the  water 
hissed  and  like  an  echo  there  floated  to  the  ears 
of  the  toiling  men  the  cry  of  the  rioters  far  away 
in  another  part  of  the  town.  They  had  done 
their  work.  It  had,  perhaps,  come  about  unin- 
tentionally. They  had  only  met  to  jeer;  but 
finally  some  one  threw  a  stone.  The  sound  of 
crashing  glass  filled  them  with  the  spirit  of  de- 
struction. A  rioter  cried,  "Fire  the  damned 
shanty  !  "  There  were  cries  of  "  No !  No ! "  but 
the  cry  had  already  been  taken  up,  and  a  brand 
had  been  flung.  Then  madness  seized  them  all 
and  they  battered  and  broke,  smashed  and  tore, 
fired  the  place  and  fled  singing  with  delirious  joy. 

The  work  of  the  firemen  was  of  no  avail,  and 
in  an  hour  the  building  and  its  contents  were 
a  confused  mass  of  ashes,  charred  beams  and 
molten  metal. 


16  THE  FANATICS 

When  the  Waters  reached  home,  Mary,  wide- 
eyed,  white  and  shivering,  sat  up  waiting  for 
them.  She  hurried  to  give  them  each  a  cup  of 
coffee,  but  asked  no  questions,  though  her  hungry 
eyes  craved  the  news.  She  sat  and  stared  at 
them,  as  they  eagerly  drank. 

Then  her  father  turned  to  her.  "  Well,"  he  said, 
"  here's  another  sacrifice  to  the  spirit  of  rebellion 
in  the  North.  A  man  ruined,  his  property  de- 
stroyed. They  have  burned  the  Rejpublican^ 
but  they  can't  burn  the  principle  it  stood  for,  and 
the  fire  they  lighted  to-night  will  leave  a  flame  in 
the  heart  of  loyal  citizens  that  will  burn  out 
every  stock  and  stubble  of  secession,  and  disloy- 
alty. Then  woe  to  the  copperheads  who  are 
hiding  in  the  grass !  When  the  flames  have 
driven  them  out,  we  will  trample  on  them,  tram- 
ple on  them ! "  The  old  man  rose  and  ground 
his  heel  into  the  floor. 

Mary  gave  a  cry,  and  shivering,  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands. 


CHAPTER  III 

PKEPAEATION 

There  were  many  other  men  in  Dorbury  no 
less  stirred  than  was  Bradford  Waters  over  the 
events  of  the  night,  and  the  news  from  Charles- 
ton harbor.  The  next  day  saw  meetings  of  the 
loyal  citizens  in  every  corner  of  the  little  town, 
which  at  last  melted  into  one  convention  at  the 
courthouse.  Those  who  had  no  southern  sympa- 
thies had  been  stung  into  action  by  the  unwar- 
ranted rashness  of  the  rioters,  which  brought  the 
passions  of  the  time  so  close  to  themselves. 

The  one  question  was  asked  on  all  sides :  How 
soon  would  the  president  call  for  troops  to  put 
down  this  insurrection,  and  even  as  they  asked 
it,  the  men  were  organizing,  recruiting,  drilling 
and  forming  companies  to  go  to  the  front.  The 
Light  Guards,  the  local  organization,  donned 
their  uniforms  and  paraded  the  streets.  Already 
drums  were  heard  on  all  sides,  and  the  shrill  cry 
of  the  fifes.  In  that  portion  of  the  town  where 
lived  a  number  of  wealthy  Southerners,  there 
was    the    quiet    and  desolation  of    the  grave. 

17 


18  THE  FANATICS 

Their  doors  were  barred  and  their  windows 
were  shut.  Even  they  could  not  have  believed 
that  it  would  come  to  this,  but  since  it  had  come, 
it  was  too  soon  for  them  to  readjust  themselves 
to  new  conditions,  too  soon  to  go  boldlj  over  to 
the  side  of  the  South,  or  changing  all  their  tradi- 
tions, come  out  for  the  North  and  the  Union, 
which  in  spite  of  all,  they  loved.  So  they  kept 
silent,  and  the  turmoil  went  on  around  them. 
The  waves  of  excitement  rolled  to  their  very 
doors,  receded  and  surged  up  again.  Through 
their  closed  blinds,  they  heard  the  shouts  of  the 
men  at  the  public  meeting  a  few  blocks  away. 
They  heard  the  tramping  of  feet  as  the  forming 
companies  moved  up  and  down.  The  men  knew 
that  many  of  their  employees  were  away,  min- 
gling with  the  crowds  and  that  work  was  being 
neglected,  but  they  kept  to  their  rooms  and  to 
their  meditations. 

"Ah,"  said  one,  "it's  a  hard  thing  to  make  us 
choose  between  the  old  home  and  the  old  flag. 
We  love  both,  which  the  better,  God  only  knows." 

The  children  came  home  from  school  and  told 
how  one  of  the  teachers  was  preparing  to  go  to 
war,  and  it  brought  the  situation  up  to  their 
very  faces.  Those  were,  indeed,  terrible  times 
when  preceptors  left  their  desks  for  the  battle- 
field. But  still  their  hearts  cried  within  them, 
"WhatshaU  wedo?" 


PEEPAKATION  19 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following  the  con- 
vention, Kannie  Woods  came  over  for  a  chat 
with  Mary  Waters.  They  were  close  friends, 
and  as  confidential  as  prospective  sisters  should 
be. 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  fight'?  "  asked  Nannie. 

"  The  South  ?  Yes,  they  will  fight,  I  am  sure 
of  it.  They  have  already  shown  what  is  in 
them.  Father  and  Tom  think  it  will  be  easy  to 
subdue  them,  but  I  feel,  somehow,  that  it  will  be 
a  long  struggle." 

"But  we  shall  whip  them,"  cried  the  other 
girl,  her  eyes  flashing. 

"I  don't  know,  I  don't  know.  I  wish  we 
didn't  have  to  try." 

"  Why,  Mary,  are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not  afraid,  but  there  are  those  I 
love  on  both  sides  and  in  the  coming  contest, 
whichever  wins,  I  shall  have  my  share  of 
sorrow." 

"  Whichever  wins !  Why  you  haven't  a  single 
friend  in  the  South  ! " 

"  I  have  no  friend  in  the  South — now." 

"  Oh,  you  mean  Kob  Yan  Doren.  Well,  if  he 
didn't  think  enough  of  me  to  be  on  my  side,  I'd 
send  him  about  his  business." 

"A  man  who  didn't  have  courage  enough  to 
hold  to  his  own  opinions  wouldn't  be  the  man 
I'd  marry." 


20  THE  FANATICS 

"  A  man  who  didn't  have  love  enough  to  change 
his  opinions  to  my  side  wouldn't  be  the  man  for 
me." 

"Yery  well,  Nannie,  we  can't  agree." 

"  But  we're  not  going  to  fall  out,  Mary,"  and 
Nannie  threw  her  arms  impulsively  around  her 
friend's  neck.  "But  oh,  I  do  long  to  see  our 
boys  march  down  there  and  show  those  rebels 
what  we're  made  of.  What  do  you  think  ? 
Father  says  they  claim  that  one  of  them  can  whip 
five  Yankees,  meaning  us.  "Well,  I'd  like  to  see 
them  try  it." 

"  Spoken  like  a  brave  and  loyal  little  woman," 
cried  Tom,  rushing  in. 

"Eavesdropping,"  said  Nannie  coquettishly, 
but  Mary  turned  her  sad  eyes  upon  him. 

"I  am  no  less  loyal  than  Nannie,"  she  said, 
"and  if  the  worst  comes,  I  know  where  my 
allegiance  lies,  but — but — I  wish  it  wasn't  neces- 
sary, I  wish  it  wasn't  necessary  to  take  sides." 

"  Never  you  mind,  Mary,  it's  going  to  be  all 
right.     We'll  whip  them  in  a  month  or  two." 

"We!"  cried  Nannie.  "Oh,  Tom,  you're 
never  going  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  should  I  be  doing  when  men  are 
at  war  ?  " 

"  But  will  there  be  war  ?  " 

"  There  is  war.  The  South  has  fallen  out  of 
step  and  we  shall  have  to  whip  them  back  into 


PKEPAKATION  21 

line.  But  it  won't  be  long,  two  or  three  months 
at  most,  and  then  all  will  be  quiet  again.  It  may 
not  even  mean  bloodshed.  I  think  a  display  of 
armed  force  will  be  sufficient  to  quell  them." 

"  God  grant  it  may  be  so." 

Tom  turned  and  looked  at  his  sister  in  an 
amused  way.  "  Oh,  you  needn't  be  afraid,  Mary, 
Bob  Yan  Doren  won't  go.  Copperheads  only 
talk,  they  never  fight,  ha,  ha." 

"  Tom  Waters,  that's  mean  of  you,"  Nannie 
exclaimed,  "  and  it's  very  little  of  you,  for  a  day 
or  two  ago  Bob  was  your  friend."  She  held 
Mary  closer  as  she  spoke,  but  Tom  Waters  was 
imbued  with  the  madness  that  was  in  the  air. 

"  What,"  he  burst  out,  "  Bob  Yan  Doren  my 
friend !  I  have  no  friend  except  the  friends  of 
the  Union,  I  tell  you,  and  mark  my  words,  when 
the  others  of  us  march  away,  you  will  find  him 
skulking  with  the  rest  of  his  breed  in  the  grass, 
where  all  snakes  lie." 

"  Bob  Yan  Doren  is  no  coward,"  said  Mary  in- 
tensely, "  and  when  the  time  comes,  he  will  be 
found  where  his  convictions  lead,  either  boldly 
on  the  side  of  the  Union  or  fighting  for  the  cause 

which  his  honor  chooses,  you "      She  broke 

down  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  dry  up,  Mary,"  Tom  said,  with  rough 
tenderness,  "  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  your  feelings. 
Kob's  a  good  enough  fellow,  but  oh,  I  wish  he 


22  THE  FANATICS 

was  on  our  side.  Don't  cry,  Mary,  he's  a  first- 
rate  fellow,  and  I — I'll  be  friends  with  him." 

"  Tom,  you  go  away,"  cried  JSTannie,  "  you're 
just  like  all  men,  a  great  big,  blundering — don't 
cry,  Mary,  don't  cry.  Mind  your  own  business, 
Tom  Waters,  nobody  wants  you  officiating  around 
here,  you've  put  your  foot  in  it,  and  if  you  get 
smart,  Mary  and  I  will  both  turn  rebel.  Take 
your  arm  away." 

"  A  pretty  rebel  you'd  make." 

"I'd  make  a  better  rebel  than  you  would  a 
soldier." 

"All  right,  I'll  show  you,"  and  the  young 
man  went  out  and  slammed  the  door  behind 
him. 

"Now  you've  hurt  his  feelings,"  said  Mary, 
suddenly  drying  her  tears. 

"I  don't  care,  it  was  all  your  fault,  Mary 
Waters."  Then  they  wept  in  each  other's  arms 
because  they  were  both  so  miserable. 

Just  then,  the  negro  known  as  Nigger  Ed, 
came  running  down  the  street.  "  Laws,  have 
mussy  on  us,  dey's  hangin'  Mistah  Y'landi'ham !  " 

The  hearts  of  the  two  girls  stood  still  with 
horror  for  the  moment,  and  they  clutched  each 
other  wildly,  but  the  taint  of  Eve  conquered,  and 
they  hurried  to  the  door  to  get  the  news. 

"  Nigger  Ed,  Nigger  Ed  ! "  they  called,  and  the 
colored  man  came  breathlessly  back  to  them. 


PEEPAKATION  23 

""What  did  you  say  as  you  passed  the  house? 
They're  hanging  Mr.  Yallandighara  ?  " 

"  Yes'm,  day's  hangin'  him  up  by  de  co'thouse, 
a  whole  crowd  o'  men's  a-hangin'  him.  Yo' 
fathah's  'mongst  'em,  missy,"  he  said  turning  to 
Mary. 

"My  father  helping  to  hang  Yallandigham ! 
Oh,  what  are  we  coming  to  ?  Isn't  it  a  terrible 
thing  ?    Why,  it's  murder ! " 

Nannie  called  across  to  a  friend  who  was  pass- 
ing on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Smith,  can  it  be  true  that  they  are  hanging  Yal- 
landigham ?  " 

The  friend  laughed.     "  Only  in  efSgy,"  he  said. 

"  Get  along  with  you,  Ed,"  said  Nannie  indig- 
nantly ;  "  running  around  here  scaring  a  body  to 
death ;  they're  only  hanging  him  in  eifigy." 

"Effigy,  ef^gy,  dat's  whut  dey  said,  but  hit 
don't  mek  no  diffunce  how  a  man's  hung,  des  so 
he's  hung." 

"  Go  along,  you  dunce,  it's  a  stuffed  Yalland- 
igham they're  hanging." 

"  Stuffed !  "  cried  Ed,  "  I  fought  effigy  meant 
his  clothes.  Lawd  bless  yo'  soul,  missy,  an'  me 
brekin'  my  naik  runnin'  f 'om  a  stuffed  co'pse.  I 
reckon  I  'larmed  half  de  town,"  and  Ed  went  on 
his  way. 

"  And  it's  for  those  people  our  brothers  and 
fathers  are  going  to  war  ?  " 


24  THE  FANATICS 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  said  Nannie.  "  It's  for 
the  Union  and  against  states'  rights,  and — and — 
everything  like  that." 

"  Those  people  are  at  the  bottom  of  it  all,  I 
know  it.  I  knew  when  that  book  by  Mrs.  Stowe 
came  out.  They're  at  the  bottom  of  all  this 
trouble.  I  wish  they'd  never  been  brought  into 
this  country." 

*<Why,  how  foolish  you  are,  Mary,  what  on 
earth  would  the  South  have  done  without  them  ? 
You  don't  suppose  white  people  could  work  down 
in  that  hot  country  ?  " 

"White  people  will  work  down  in  that  hot 
country,  and  they  will  fight  down  there,  and  oh, 
my  God,  they  will  die  down  there  !  " 

"  Mary,  you  cry  now  at  the  least  thing.  I  be- 
lieve you're  getting  a  touch  of  hysteria.  If  you 
say  so,  I'll  burn  some  feathers  under  your  nose." 

"  It  isn't  hysterics,  Nannie,  unless  the  whole 
spirit  of  the  times  is  hysterical,  but  it  is  hard  to 
see  families  that  have  known  and  loved  each 
other  for  so  long  suddenly  torn  asunder  by  these 
dissensions." 

"  But  the  women  folks  needn't  be  separated. 
They  can  go  on  loving  each  other  just  the  same." 

"  No,  the  women  must  and  will  follow  their 
natural  masters.  It  only  remains  for  them  to 
choose  which  shall  be  their  masters,  the  men  at 
home,  or  those  whom  they  love  outside." 


PKEPAKATION  25 

"  Well,  with  most  of  us  that  will  be  an  easy 
matter,  for  our  lovers  and  the  folks  at  home 
agree — forgive  me,  Mary,  I  mean  no  reflection 
upon  you,  and  I  am  so  sorry." 

"  We  are  not  all  so  fortunate,  but  however  it 
comes,  our  women's  hearts  will  bear  the  burdens. 
The  men  will  get  the  glory  and  we  shall  have  the 
grief." 

"  Hooray  ! "  Tom's  voice  floated  in  from  the 
street,  and  he  swung  in  at  the  gate,  singing  gaily, 
his  cap  in  his  hand. 

"Oh,  what  is  it,  Tom?"  cried  Nannie, 
"  what's  the  news  ?  " 

"  The  bulletin  says  it  is  more  than  likely  that 
the  president  will  call  for  volunteers  to-morrow, 
and  I'm  going  to  be  the  first  lieutenant  in  the 
company,  if  the  Light  Guards  go  as  a  body." 

"  Oh,  my  poor  brother  !  " 

"  Poor  nothing,  boom,  boom,  ta,  ra,  ra,  boom, 
forward  march  ! "  And  Tom  tramped  around 
the  room  in  an  excess  of  youthful  enthusiasm. 
He  was  still  parading,  much  to  Nannie's  pride 
and  delight  when  his  father  entered  and  stood 
looking  at  him.  His  eyes  were  swollen  and 
dark,  and  there  were  lines  of  pain  about  his 
mouth. 

"Ah,  Tom,"  he  said  presently,  "there'll  be 
something  more  than  marching  to  do.  I  had  ex- 
pected to  go  along  with  you,  but  they  tell  me 


26  THE  FANATICS 

I'm  too  old,  and  so  I  must  be  denied  the  honor 
of  going  to  the  front ;  but  if  you  go,  my  son,  I 
want  your  eyes  to  be  open  to  the  fact  that  you 
are  going  down  there  for  no  child's  play.  It  will 
be  full  grown  men's  work.  There  will  be  uni- 
forms and  shining  equipments,  but  there  will  be 
shot  and  shell  as  well.  You  go  down  there  to 
make  yourself  a  target  for  rebel  bullets,  and  a 
mark  for  Southern  fevers.  There  will  be  the 
screaming  of  fifes,  but  there  will  also  be  the 
whistling  of  shot.  The  flag  that  we  love  will 
float  above  you,  but  over  all  will  hover  the  dark 
wings  of  death." 

"  Oh,  father,  father,"  cried  Mary. 

"  It  is  a  terrible  business,  daughter." 

Tom  had  stood  silent  in  the  middle  of  the  floor 
while  his  father  was  speaking,  and  now  he  drew 
up  his  shoulders  and  answered,  "  Don't  be  afraid 
of  me,  father,  I  understand  it  all.  If  I  go  to  the 
war,  I  shall  expect  to  meet  and  endure  all  that 
the  war  will  bring,  hardships,  maybe  worse.  I'm 
not  going  for  fun,  and  I  don't  think  you'll  ever 
have  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  me." 

Mary  flung  herself  on  her  father's  breast  and 
clung  to  him  as  if  fearful  that  he  also  might  be 
taken  from  her.  But  Nannie,  with  burning  face, 
ran  across  and  placed  her  hand  in  Tom's. 

"  That's  right,  Tom,  and  I'm  not  afraid  for 
you."    The  young  man  put  his  hand  tenderly 


PEEPAKATIOISr  27 

upon  the  girPs  head,  and  smiled  down  into  her 
face. 

"You're  a  brave  little  woman,  Nannie,"  he 
said.  The  deep  menace  of  the  approaching  con- 
test seemed  to  have  subdued  them  all. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  for  my  son's  honor,"  said  Brad- 
ford Waters  proudly,  "  but  we  must  all  remem- 
ber that  war  brings  more  tears  than  smiles,  and 
makes  more  widows  than  wives." 

"  We  know  that,"  said  Nannie,  "  but  we  women 
will  play  our  part  at  home,  and  be  brave,  won't 
we,  Mary  ?  " 

The  girl  could  not  answer,  but  she  raised  her 
head  from  her  father's  shoulder  and  gripped  her 
brother's  hand  tightly. 

It  was  strange  talk  and  a  strange  scene  for 
these  self-contained  people  who  thought  so  little 
of  their  emotions ;  but  their  very  fervor  gave  a 
melodramatic  touch  to  all  they  did  that  at 
another  time  must  have  appeared  ridiculous. 


CHAPTEE  ly 

SONS   AND   FATHERS 

The  scenes  that  were  taking  place  in  Dorbury 
were  not  different  from  those  that  were  being 
enacted  over  the  whole  country.  While  the 
North  was  thunderstruck  at  the  turn  matters 
had  taken,  there  had  yet  been  gathering  there  a 
political  force  which  only  needed  this  last  act  of 
effrontery  to  galvanize  its  intention  into  action. 
Everywhere,  men  were  gathering  themselves  into 
companies,  or  like  Dorbury,  already  had  their 
Light  Guards.  Then  like  the  sound  of  a  deep 
bell  in  the  midst  of  potential  silence  came  the 
president's  proclamation  and  the  waiting  hosts 
heard  gladly.  Lincoln's  call  for  troops  could 
hardly  do  more  than  was  already  done.  Volunteer- 
ing was  but  a  word.  In  effect,  thousands  of  men 
were  ready,  and  the  call  meant  only  marching 
orders.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  time  was  infec- 
tious. Old  men  were  vying  with  youths  in  their 
haste  and  eagerness  to  offer  their  services  to  the 
country.  As  Bradford  Waters  had  said,  it  was  a 
time  for  sharp  divisions,  and  men  who  had  been 

28 


SONS  AND  FATHERS  29 

lukewarm  in  behalf  of  the  Northern  cause 
before,  now  threw  themselves  heart  and  soul 
into  it. 

This  state  of  affairs  effected  Southern  sympa- 
thizers in  the  North  in  two  ways.  It  reduced  the 
less  robust  of  spirit  to  silence  and  evasion.  The 
bolder  and  more  decided  ones  were  still  also,  but 
between  the  silence  of  one  and  that  of  the  other 
was  a  vast  difference  of  motive.  One  was  the 
conceding  silence  of  fear  ;  the  other  was  a  sullen 
repression  that  brooded  and  bided  its  time. 

Among  those  who  came  out  strongly  on  the 
side  of  the  South,  was  old  Colonel  Stewart,  one 
of  the  oldest  citizens  of  the  town.  He  had  served 
with  distinction  throughout  the  Mexican  war,  and 
was  the  close  friend  of  Yallandigham.  He  had 
come  of  good  old  Virginia  blood,  and  could  not 
and  would  not  try  to  control  his  utterances.  So 
when  the  crisis  came,  his  family,  fearing  the  heat 
and  violence  of  the  time,  urged  him  to  go  South, 
where  his  words  and  feelings  would  be  more  in 
accordance  with  the  views  of  his  neighbors.  But 
he  angrily  refused. 

"No,"  said  he,  "I  will  not  run  from  them  a 
single  step.  I  will  stay  here,  and  thrust  the 
truth  of  what  I  believe  down  their  throats." 

"  But  it  will  do  no  good,"  said  his  old  wife 
plaintively.  "  These  people  are  as  set  in  their  be- 
liefs as  you  are  in  yours,  and  you  have  no  more 


30  THE  FANATICS 

chance  of  turning  them  than  of  stemming  the 
Ohio  Eiver." 

"  I  am  not  here  to  stem  the  current.  Let  them 
go  on  with  it  and  be  swept  to  destruction  by 
their  own  madness,  but  they  shall  not  move  me." 

"All  of  your  friends  are  keeping  silent, 
colonel,  although  they  feel  as  deeply  as  you  do." 

"  All  the  more  reason  for  him  who  feels  and 
dares  speak  to  speak." 

"  Then,  too,  you  owe  it  to  your  family  to  leave 
this  place.  Your  views  make  it  hard  for  us,  and 
they  will  make  it  worse  as  the  trouble  grows." 

"  I  hope  I  have  a  family  heroic  enough  to  bear 
with  me  some  of  the  burdens  of  the  South." 

His  wife  sighed  hopelessly.  It  seemed  a  throw- 
ing of  her  words  into  empty  air  to  talk  to  her 
husband.  But  Emily  Stewart  took  up  the  cause. 
She  had  the  subtlety  of  the  newer  generation, 
which  in  argument  she  substituted  for  her 
mother's  simple  directness. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  father,"  she  said,  "  that  you 
owe  the  most  not  to  your  family,  but  to  your- 
self." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  said,  turning  upon 
her. 

"  That  if  you  are  going  to  bear  the  burdens  of 
the  South,  you  should  bear  them  not  half-heart- 
edly, but  in  full." 

"  Well,  am  I  not  ?  " 


SONS  AND  FATHERS  31 

"  Let  me  explain.  If  trouble  should  come  to 
the  South,  if  disaster  or  defeat,  it  would  be  easy 
for  you,  for  any  man,  to  raise  his  voice  in  her  be- 
half, while  he,  himself,  rides  out  and  beyond  the 
stress  of  the  storm.  If  you  are  on  the  side  of  the 
South,  she  has  a  right  to  demand  your  presence 
there ;  the  strength  of  your  personality  thrown 
in  with  her  strength." 

The  old  man  thought  deeply,  and  then  he  said, 
"  I  believe  you  are  right.  Body  as  well  as  soul 
should  be  with  the  South  now.  Yes,  we  will  go 
South.  But  I  am  sorry  about  Walter.  He  has 
been  so  bound  up  in  his  work.  It  will  be  a  great 
disappointment  for  him  to  go  away  and  leave  it 
all.  But  then  he  may,  in  fact,  I  hope  he  will 
find  consolation  for  whatever  he  loses  in  defend- 
ing the  birthplace  of  his  father  against  the  in- 
vasion of  vandals." 

The  two  women  were  silent.  They  were 
keener  than  the  man.  Women  always  are ;  and 
these  knew  or  felt  with  a  vividness  that  bordered 
on  knowledge  that  Walter  would  not  think  as 
his  father  thought  or  go  his  father's  way,  and 
here  the  breach  would  come.  But  the  colonel 
never  once  thought  but  that  his  son  would  enter 
heartily  into  all  his  plans  and  he  prided  himself 
upon  the  step  he  was  about  to  take.  His  wife  and 
daughter  went  out  and  left  him  anxiously  await- 
ing Walter's  coming. 


32  THE  FANATICS 

They  were  apprehensive  when  they  heard  the 
young  man's  step  in  the  hall,  and  afterwards 
heard  him  enter  the  library  where  the  colonel 
always  insisted  that  any  matter  of  importance 
should  be  discussed. 

Heroism,  real  or  fancied,  is  its  own  reward,  its 
own  audience  and  its  own  applause.  With  con- 
tinued thought  upon  the  matter,  Colonel  Stew- 
art's enthusiasm  had  reached  the  fever  pitch 
from  which  he  could  admit  but  one  view  of  it. 
He  had  bade  the  servant  send  his  son  to  him  as 
soon  as  he  came  in,  and  he  was  walking  back  and 
forth  across  the  floor  when  he  heard  the  young 
man's  step.  The  old  man  paused  and  threw  back 
his  head  with  the  spirited  motion  that  was 
reminiscent  of  the  days  when  he  was  a  famous 
orator. 

The  boy,  he  was  the  colonel's  only  son,  was 
not  yet  twenty-four — a  handsome  fellow,  tall, 
well-made  and  as  straight  as  an  arrow.  As  they 
stood  there  facing  each  other,  there  was  some- 
thing very  much  alike  in  them.  Age,  experience, 
and  contact  with  the  world  had  hardened  the 
lines  about  the  old  man's  mouth,  which  as  yet  in 
the  boy's,  only  indicated  firmness. 

"  Sit  down,  Walter,"  said  the  colonel  impress- 
ively, "  I  have  something  of  importance  to  say 
to  you  ;  something  that  will  probably  change 
your  whole  life."    His  son  had  dropped  into  a 


SONS  AND  FATHERS  33 

chair  opposite  to  the  one  which  his  father  had 
taken.  His  face  was  white  with  the  apprehen- 
sion that  would  tug  at  his  heart,  but  his  eye  was 
steady  and  his  lips  firm. 

Alexander  Stewart  could  never  quite  forget 
that  for  two  sessions  he  had  been  a  speaking 
member  of  the  Ohio  legislature,  and  whenever  he 
had  anything  of  importance  to  say,  he  returned 
involuntarily  to  his  forensic  manner. 

"  Walter,  my  son,"  he  began,  "  we  have  come 
upon  startling  times.  I  have  known  all  along 
that  this  crisis  would  come,  but  I  had  not  ex- 
pected to  see  it  in  my  day.  It  was  inevitable 
that  the  proud  spirit  of  the  South  and  the  blind 
arrogance  of  the  North  should  some  day  clash. 
The  clash  has  now  come,  and  with  it,  the  time 
for  all  strong  men  to  take  a  decided  stand.  We 
of  the  South  " — the  boy  winced  at  the  words — 
"  hold  to  our  allegiance,  though  we  have  changed 
our  homes,  and  this  is  the  time  for  us  to  show 
our  loyalty.  The  South  has  been  insulted,  her 
oldest  institutions  derided,  and  her  proudest 
names  dragged  in  the  dust  by  men  who  might 
have  been  their  owners'  overseers.  But  she  does 
not  bear  malice.  She  is  not  going  to  wage  a 
war  of  vengeance,  but  a  holy  war  for  truth,  jus- 
tice and  right.  I  am  going  back  home  to  help 
her."  The  old  man's  own  eloquence  had  brought 
him  to  his  feet  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  where 


34  THE  FANATICS 

he  stood,  with  eyes  blazing.  "  Back  home,"  he 
repeated,  "  and  you,  ray  son —  "  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Father,"  Walter  also  arose;  his  face  was 
deadly  pale.  He  did  not  take  the  proffered 
hand.  His  father  gazed  at  him,  first  in  amaze- 
ment, then  as  the  truth  began  to  reach  his  mind, 
a  livid  flush  overspread  his  face.  His  hand 
dropped  at  his  side,  and  his  fingers  clenched. 

"  You,"  he  half  groaned,  half  growled  between 
his  teeth. 

"  Father,  listen  to  me." 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  I  can  listen  to  from 
you." 

"  You  can  never  hear  that.  The  North  is  my 
home.  I  was  born  here.  I  was  brought  up  to 
revere  the  flag.     You  taught  me  that." 

"  But  there  is  a  reverence  greater  than  that 
for  any  flag.  There  is  a  time  when  a  flag  loses 
its  right  to  respect." 

"  You  never  talked  to  me  of  any  such  rever- 
ence or  told  me  of  any  such  time,  and  now  I 
choose  to  stand  by  the  home  I  know." 

"  This  is  not  your  home.  Your  home  is  the 
home  of  your  family,  and  the  blood  in  your  veins 
is  drawn  from  the  best  in  the  South." 

"  My  blood  was  made  by  the  streams  and  in 
the  meadows ;  on  the  hills  and  in  the  valleys  of 
Ohio,  here,  where  I  have  played  from  babyhood. 


SONS  AND  FATHEKS  35 

and  father,  I  can't — I  can't.  May  we  not  think 
differently  and  be  friends  ?  " 

"  No,  if  you  had  the  blood  of  a  single  Yankee 
ancestor  in  you,  I  would  impute  it  to  that  and 
forgive  the  defection;  I  could  understand  your 
weakening  at  this  time,  but " 

"  It  is  not  weakening,"  Walter  flashed  back, 
"if  anything,  it  is  strengthening  when  a  man 
stands  up  for  his  flag,  for  the  only  flag  he  has 
ever  known,  when  it  is  attacked  by  traitors." 

"  Traitors  !  "  the  old  man  almost  shouted  the 
word  as  he  made  a  step  towards  the  boy. 

"  Traitors,  yes,  traitors,"  said  the  son,  unflinch- 
ingly. 

"  You  cur,  you  mongrel  cur,  neither  Northern 
nor  Southern ! " 

"Father " 

"  Silence !  I  wish  the  North  joy  of  your  ac- 
quisition. The  South  is  well  shed  of  you.  You 
would  have  been  like  to  turn  tail  and  skulked  in 
her  direst  extremity.  It  is  well  to  know  what 
you  are  from  the  start." 

"  Let  me  say  a  word,  father." 

"  Don't  father  me.  I'll  father  no  such  weak- 
kneed  renegade  as  you  are.  From  to-day,  you 
are  no  son  of  mine.     I  curse  you — curse  you ! " 

The  door  opened  softly  and  Mrs.  Stewart  stood 
there,  transfixed,  gazing  at  the  two  men.  She 
was  very  pale  for  she  had  heard  the  last  words. 


36  THE  FANATICS 

"Husband,  Walter — "  she  said  tremulously, 
"  I  have  intruded,  but  I  could  not  help  it." 

Neither  man  spoke. 

"  Alexander,"  she  went  on,  "  take  back  those 
words.  I  felt  all  along  it  would  be  so,  but  you 
and  Walter  can  disagree  with  each  other  and  yet 
be  father  and  son.  Walter,  come  and  shake 
hands  with  your  father."  The  boy  took  a  re- 
luctant step  forward,  without  raising  his  head, 
but  his  father  drew  himself  up  and  folded  his 
arms. 

"  Alexander ! " 

"  I  have  no  son,"  he  said  simply. 

Walter  raised  his  eyes  and  answered,  "And 
I  no  father,"  and  seizing  his  mother  in  his  arms, 
he  covered  her  face  with  kisses,  and  rushed  from 
the  room.  Presently  they  heard  the  front  door 
close  behind  him. 

"  Call  him  back,  husband,  call  him  back,  for 
God's  sake.  He  is  our  son,  the  only  one  left — 
call  him  back ! " 

The  colonel  stood  like  a  statue.  Not  a  muscle 
of  his  face  quivered,  and  his  folded  arms  were 
like  iron  in  their  tenseness.  "  He  has  chosen  his 
faith,"  he  said.  He  relaxed  then  to  receive  his 
wife's  faintiug  form  in  his  arms.  He  laid  her 
gently  on  a  couch  and  calling  his  daughter  and 
the  servants,  went  to  his  own  room. 

It  is  an  awful  thing  to  have  to  answer  to  a 


SONS  AND  FATHEKS  37 

mother  for  her  boy.  To  see  her  eyes  searching 
your  soul  with  the  question  in  them,  '*  Where  is 
my  child  ?  "  But  it  is  a  more  terrible  thing  to  a 
father's  conscience  when  he  himself  is  questioner, 
accuser  and  culprit  in  one. .  Colonel  Stewart 
walked  his  room  alone  and  thought  with  agony 
over  his  position.  He  knew  Walter's  disposition. 
It  was  very  like  his  own,  and  this  was  not  a 
matter  in  which  to  say,  "I  have  been  hasty," 
and  then  allow  it  to  pass  over.  How  could  he 
meet  his  wife's  accusing  eyes?  How  could  he 
do  without  Walter  ?  The  old  man  sat  down  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  The  fire  and  en- 
thusiasm of  indignation  which  had  held  him  up 
during  his  interview  with  his  son  had  left  him, 
and  he  was  only  a  sad,  broken  old  man.  If  he 
could  but  stay  in  his  room  forever,  away  from 
everybody. 

As  soon  as  his  wife  recovered  from  her  swoon 
she  sent  for  him.  He  went  tremblingly  and  re- 
luctantly to  her,  fearful  of  what  he  should  see  in 
her  eyes.  The  room,  though,  was  sympathetic- 
ally darkened  when  he  went  in.  He  groped  his 
way  to  the  bed.  A  hand  reached  out  and  took 
his  and  a  voice  said,  "  Let  us  hurry,  let  us  go 
away  from  here,  Alexander."  There  was  no 
anger,  no  reproach  in  the  tone,  only  a  deep,  lin- 
gering sadness  that  tore  at  his  heartstrings. 

"  Margaret,  Margaret ! "  he  cried,  and  flinging 


38  THE  FANATICS 

his  arms  about  her,  held  her  close  while  sobs 
shook  his  frame. 

His  wife  patted  his  grey  hair.  "  Don't  cry,  be- 
loved," she  said,  "this  is  war.  But  let  us  go 
away  from  here.     Let  us  go  away." 

"Yes,  Margaret,"  he  sobbed,  "we  will  go 
away." 

Preparations  for  the  departure  of  the  Stewarts 
began  immediately.  Mrs.  Stewart  busied  herself 
feverishly  as  one  who  works  to  drive  out  bitter 
thoughts.  But  the  colonel  kept  to  his  room 
away  from  the  scenes  of  activity.  His  trouble 
weighed  heavily  upon  him.  His  enthusiasm  for 
the  war  seemed  suddenly  to  have  turned  its  heat 
malignantly  upon  him  to  consume  bim.  Except 
when  circumstances  demanded  his  presence,  he 
kept  away  from  the  rest  of  the  family,  no  longer 
through  the  mere  dread  of  meeting  them,  for  it 
was  the  spirit  of  his  conscience  to  press  the  iron 
into  his  soul ;  but  because  he  felt  that  this  was  a 
trouble  to  be  borne  alone.  No  one  could  share 
it,  no  one  could  understand  it. 

For  several  days  no  one  outside  of  the  house 
knew  of  the  breach  that  had  occurred  in  the 
Stewart  family,  nor  of  their  intention  to  go 
South.  Then  they  made  the  mistake  of  hiring 
the  negro,  Ed,  to  help  them  finish  their 
packing. 

The   servant    is  always   curious ;    the  negro 


SOKS  AKD  FATHEKS  39 

servant  particularly  so,  and  to  the  negro  the 
very  atmosphere  of  this  silent  house,  the  con- 
strained attitude  of  the  family  were  pregnant 
with  mystery.  Then  he  did  not  see  the  son 
about.  It  took  but  a  little  time  for  his  curiosity 
to  lead  to  the  discovery  that  the  son  was  boarding 
in  the  town.  This,  with  scraps  of  information 
got  from  the  other  servants,  he  put  together,  and 
his  imagination  did  the  rest.  Ed  had  a  pictur- 
esque knack  for  lying,  and  the  tale  that  resulted 
from  his  speculations  was  a  fabric  worthy  of  its 
weaver. 

According  to  the  negro's  version,  the  colonel, 
though  long  past  the  age  for  service,  was  going 
down  South  to  be  a  general,  and  wanted  to  take 
his  son,  Walter,  along  with  him  to  be  a  captain. 
Walter  had  refused,  and  he  and  his  father  had 
come  to  fisticuffs  in  which  the  young  man  was 
worsted,  for  Ed  added  admiringly  by  way  of 
embellishment,  "  Do  oP  cunnel  is  a  mighty  good 
man  yit."  After  this  the  young  man  had  left 
his  father's  house  because  he  thought  he  was  too 
old  to  be  whipped. 

This  was  the  tale  with  which  Ed  regaled  the 
people  for  whom  he  worked  about  Dorbury; 
but  be  it  said  in  vindication  of  their  common 
sense  that  few,  if  any,  believed  it.  That  there 
was  some  color  of  fact  in  the  matter  they  could 
not    doubt    when    it    w^as  plainly  shown  that 


40  THE  FANATICS 

Walter  Stewart  was  not  living  at  his  father's 
house.  There  must  have  been  a  breach  of  some 
kind,  they  admitted,  but  Ed's  picture  must  be  re- 
duced about  one-half. 

The  story,  however,  threw  young  Stewart  into 
an  unenviable  prominence.  As  modest  as  it  is 
natural  for  a  young  man  of  twenty-three  to  be, 
it  gave  him  no  pleasure  to  have  people  turn 
around  to  look  after  him  with  an  audible, 
"  There  he  goes ! " 

At  first,  his  feeling  towards  his  father  had  been 
one,  not  so  much  of  anger  as  of  grief.  But  he 
had  no  confidant,  and  the  grief  that  could  not 
find  an  outlet  hardened  into  a  grief  that  sticks  in 
the  throat,  that  cannot  be  floated  off  by  tears  or 
blown  away  by  curses  that  will  not  melt,  that 
will  not  move,  that  becomes  rebellion.  It  was 
all  unjust.  He  thought  of  the  ideas  of  independ- 
ence that  his  father  had  inculcated  in  him ; 
how  he  had  held  up  to  him  the  very  strength  of 
manhood  which  he  now  repudiated.  How  he 
had  set  before  him  the  very  example  upon  which 
he  now  modeled  his  conduct,  and  then  abased 
it.  He  had  built  and  broken  his  own  idol, 
and  the  ruins  lay  not  only  about  his  feet,  but 
about  his  son's.  It  was  a  hard  thought  in 
the  boy's  mind,  and  for  a  time  he  felt  as  if  he 
wanted  to  hold  his  way  in  the  world,  asking  of 
nothing,  is  it  right  or  wrong  ?  leaning  to  no  be- 


SONS  AND  FATHERS  41 

liefs,  following  no  principles.  This  was  the  first 
mad  rebellion  of  his  flowering  youth  against  the 
fading  ideals,  against  the  revelation  of  things  as 
they  are.  But  with  the  rebound,  which  marks 
the  dividing  line  between  youth  and  manhood, 
he  came  back  to  a  saner  view  of  the  affair. 

It  came  to  him  for  the  first  time  that  now  was 
a  period  of  general  madness  in  which  no  rule  of 
sane  action  held  good.  And  yet,  he  could  not 
wholly  forgive  his  father  his  unnecessary  harsh- 
ness. The  understanding  of  his  unmerited 
cruelty  came  to  him,  but  his  condemnation  of  it 
did  not  leave.  Only  once  did  he  ask  himself 
whether  the  cause  for  which  he  stood  was 
worthy  of  all  that  he  had  sacrificed  for  it ;  home, 
mother,  comfort  and  a  father's  love.  Then  there 
came  back  to  him  the  words  his  father  had  ut- 
tered on  a  memorable  occasion,  "Walter,  prin- 
ciple is  too  dear  to  be  sacrificed  at  any  price," 
and  his  lips  closed  in  a  line  of  determination. 
Resolutely  he  turned  his  face  away  from  that 
path  of  soft  delight.  He  was  no  longer  his 
father's  son  ;  but  he  was  enough  of  a  Stewart  to 
believe  strongly. 

He  felt  sorely  hurt,  though,  when  he  found 
that  Ed's  story,  while  failing  to  find  a  resting- 
place  in  the  ears  of  the  sensible,  had  percolated 
the  minds  of  the  lower  classes  of  the  town.  He 
heard  ominous  threats  hurled  at  the  old  copper- 


42  THE  FANATICS 

head,  which  he  knew  to  be  directed  at  his  father. 
All  that  lay  in  his  power  to  do,  he  did  to  stem 
the  tide  of  popular  anger,  but  he  felt  it  rising 
steadily,  and  knew  that  at  any  moment  it  might 
take  the  form  of  open  violence  or  insult  to  his 
family.  This  must  be  avoided,  he  determined, 
and  night  after  night,  after  he  had  left  home,  he 
patrolled  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  his  father's 
house,  and  the  grief-stricken  mother,  reaching 
out  her  arms  and  moaning  for  her  son  in  her 
sleep,  did  not  know  that  he  was  there,  watching 
the  low  flicker  of  the  night  lamp  in  her  room. 

It  was  nearly  a  week  after  the  memorable 
evening  interview  between  Walter  and  his  father 
that  the  young  man  received  by  the  hands  of  the 
gossiping  Ed  a  note  from  his  mother.  It  ran, 
"  We  expect  to  go  to-morrow  evening  at  seven. 
Will  you  not  come  and  tell  me  good-bye?" 
Walter  was  brave,  and  he  gulped  hard.  This 
was  from  his  mother,  and  neither  principle  nor 
anything  else  separated  him  from  her.  He  would 
go.  He  wrote,  "  I  will  come  in  by  the  side  gate, 
and  wait  for  you  in  the  arbor." 

The  evening  found  him  there  a  half  hour  be- 
fore the  time  set,  but  a  mother's  fond  eagerness 
had  outrun  the  hours  and  Mrs.  Stewart  was  al- 
ready there  awaiting  him.  She  embraced  her 
son  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  they  talked  long 
together.     From  the  window  of  his  room,  Colonel 


SONS  AND  FATHERS  43 

Stewart  watched  them.  His  eyes  lingered  over 
every  outline  of  his  son's  figure.  Once,  he 
placed  his  hand  on  the  sash  as  if  to  raise  it. 
Then  he  checked  himself  and  took  a  turn  round 
the  dismantled  room.  When  he  came  back  to 
the  window,  Walter  was  taking  his  leave.  The 
old  man  saw  his  wife  clinging  about  the  boy's 
neck.  He  saw  the  young  fellow  brush  his  hand 
hastily  across  his  eyes.  Again,  his  hand  went 
out  involuntarily  to  the  window,  but  he  drew  it 
back  and  ground  it  in  the  other  while  a  groan 
struggled  up  from  under  the  weight  of  his  pride 
and  tore  itself  from  his  pale  lips.  Gone,  gone, 
Walter  was  gone,  and  with  him,  his  chance  of 
reconciliation.  He  saw  his  wife  return,  but  he 
locked  his  door  and  sat  down  to  battle  with  his 
pride  and  grief  until  it  was  time  to  go. 

It  was  a  worn-looking  old  man  that  came  down 
to  step  into  the  carriage  an  hour  later.  But 
Colonel  Stewart  never  looked  more  the  soldier. 
Walter  was  at  a  safe  point  of  vantage,  watching 
to  get  a  last  glimpse  of  his  family.  He  was 
heavy  of  heart  in  spite  of  his  bravery.  But  sud- 
denly, his  sadness  flamed  into  anger.  A  crowd 
had  been  gathering  about  his  father's  house,  but 
he  thought  it  only  the  usual  throng  attracted  by 
curiosity.  As  his  father  stepped  into  the  car- 
riage, he  heard  a  sudden  huzza.  The  people  had 
surrounded  the  vehicle.     A  band  appeared,  and 


U  THE  FANATICS 

there  floated  to  his  ears  the  strains  of  the 
Eogues'  march.  A  red  mist  came  before  his 
eyes,  but  through  it  he  could  not  help  seeing 
that  they  were  taking  the  horses  from  the  shafts. 
He  waited  to  see  no  more,  but  dashed  down  the 
street.  He  forgot  his  sorrow,  he  forgot  the 
breach,  he  forgot  everything  but  his  fury.  It 
was  his  father ;  his  father. 

They  were  drawing  the  carriage  toward  him 
now,  and  the  band  was  crashing  out  the  hateful 
music.  He  reached  the  crowd  and  dashed  into 
it  like  a  young  bull,  knocking  the  surprised 
rioters  and  musicians  right  and  left.  He  was 
cursing;  he  was  pale,  and  his  lip  was  bleeding 
where  he  had  bitten  it.  The  music  stopped. 
Those  who  held  the  shafts  dropped  them.  They 
were  too  astonished  by  the  sudden  onslaught  to 
move.  Then  a  growl  rose  like  the  noise  of  wild 
beasts  and  the  crowd  began  to  surge  upon  the 
young  man.  Forward  and  back  they  swept 
him,  struggling  and  fighting.  Then  the  carriage 
door  opened  and  Colonel  Stewart  stepped  out. 
His  face  was  the  face  of  an  angel  in  anger,  or 
perhaps  of  a  very  noble  devil. 

"  Stop,"  he  thundered,  and  at  his  voice,  the 
uproar  ceased.  "  Take  up  the  shafts,  my  felloAv- 
citizens,"  he  said  sneeringly,  "  this  act  is  what  I 
might  have  expected  of  you,  but  go  on.  It  is 
meet  that  I  should  be  drawn  by  such  cattle." 


SONS  AND  FATHERS  45 

Then  turning  to  his  son,  he  said,  "  Sir,  I  need  no 
defence  from  you."  There  was  a  joyous  cry  at 
this,  though  it  was  the  young  man's  salvation. 
Some  one  hurled  a  stone,  which  grazed  the  old 
man's  head.  Walter  was  at  the  coward's  side  in 
an  instant,  and  had  felled  hini  to  the  ground. 
For  an  instant,  something  that  was  not  contempt 
gleamed  in  the  old  man's  eye,  but  Walter  turned, 
and  lifting  his  hat  to  his  father,  backed  from  the 
crowd.  They  took  up  the  shafts  again.  The 
musicians  gathered  their  courage,  and  with  a 
shout  they  bore  the  colonel  away  to  the  station. 
Walter  stood  looking  after  the  carriage.  He 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  mother's  face  from 
the  window  for  a  moment,  and  to  the  day  of  his 
death  he  never  forgot  the  look  she  gave  him.  It 
was  to  be  a  help  to  him  in  the  time  of  his  trou- 
ble, and  strength  when  the  fight  was  hottest. 
His  anger  at  his  father  had  melted  away  in  the 
flash  of  action.  But  he  could  not  help  wonder 
if  the  colonel's  insult  to  him  had  been  sincere, 
or  only  for  the  purpose  of  accomplishing  what 
it  did,  the  diversion  of  the  crowd.  He  knew 
that  he  had  been  saved  rough  handling,  and  that 
his  father  had  saved  him,  and  he  went  home 
with  a  calmer  spirit  than  he  had  known  for 
many  days. 

Despite  the  intolerance  which  kept  Stephen 


46  THE  FANATICS 

Yan  Doren  always  at  loggerheads  with  Bradford 
Waters,  he  was  in  reality  a  fairly  reasonable 
man.  He  was  as  deep  and  ardent  a  partisan  of 
the  South  as  Colonel  Stewart,  and  if  he  was  not 
less  anxious  that  his  son  should  espouse  her 
cause,  at  least  he  had  more  patience,  and  more 
faith  to  wait  for  his  boy  to  turn  to  the  right 
path. 

From  the  time  that  Kobert  Van  Doren  was 
driven  from  his  sweetheart's  gate,  there  had  been 
a  silence  between  father  and  son  as  to  the  latter's 
intentions.  But  as  the  feverish  preparations 
went  on,  Stephen  Yan  Doren  grew  more  and 
more  uneasy  and  excited.  It  was  hard  not  to 
speak  to  his  son  and  find  out  from  him  where  he 
stood  in  regard  to  the  questions  which  were  agi- 
tating his  fellows.  But  a  stalwart  pride  held  the 
old  man  back.  There  were  times  when  he  told 
himself  that  the  boy  only  waited  for  a  word  from 
him.  But  that  word  he  determined  never  to  say. 
The  South  did  not  need  the  arm  of  any  one  who 
had  to  be  urged  to  fight  for  her. 

The  struggle  and  anxiety  which  possessed  his 
father's  mind  was  not  lost  on  the  young  man, 
and  he  sympathized  with  the  trouble,  while  he 
respected  the  fine  courtly  breeding  which  com- 
pelled silence  under  it.  As  for  himself,  he  must 
have  more  time  to  think.  This  was  no  light 
question  which  he  was  now  called  upon  to  decide. 


SONS  AND  FATHERS  47 

The  times  were  asking  of  every  American  in  his 
position,  "  Are  you  an  American  or  a  Southerner 
first  ?  "  The  answer  did  not  hang  ready  upon 
his  lips.  Where  foes  from  without  assailed,  it 
was  the  country,  the  whale  country.  Could 
there  arise  any  internal  conditions  that  would 
make  it  different  ? 

Finally,  he  could  not  stand  the  pained  question 
in  his  father's  eyes  any  longer.  A  word  would 
let  him  know  that,  at  least,  his  son  was  thinking 
of  the  matter  which  agitated  him. 

"Father,"  he  said,  "you  are  worrying  about 
me." 

The  old  man  looked  up  proudly,  "You  are 
mistaken,"  was  the  reply,  "I  have  no  need  to 
worry  about  my  son.     He  is  a  man." 

Eobert  gave  his  father  a  grateful  glance, 
and  went  on,  "You  are  right,  you  need  not 
worry.  I  am  looking  for  the  right.  When  I 
find  it,  you  may  depend  upon  me  to  go  that 
way." 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  Bob!"  exclaimed  the  old 
man,  grasping  his  son's  hand,  "  I  am  sure  you 
will.  You  are  a  man  and  must  judge  for  your- 
self.    I  have  confidence  in  you.  Bob." 

"  Thank  you,  father." 

They  pressed  each  other's  hands  warmly,  the 
cloud  cleared  from  Yan  Doren's  brow  and  the 
subject  was  dropped  between  the  two. 


48  THE  FANATICS 

Between  Tom  Waters  and  his  father  from  the 
very  first,  there  had  been  only  harmony.  There 
was  a  brief  period  of  silence  between  them  when 
Bradford  Waters  first  fully  realized  that  his  age 
put  him  hopelessly  beyond  the  chance  of  being 
beside  his  son  in  the  ranks.  At  the  first  intima- 
tion that  he  was  too  old,  he  had  scouted  the 
idea,  and  said  that  it  often  took  a  grey  head 
to  manage  a  strong  arm  rightly.  But  when  he 
saw  the  full  quota  of  militia  made  up  and  his 
application  denied,  it  filled  him  with  poignant 
grief. 

"  I  had  so  hoped  to  be  by  your  side,  Tom,  in 
this  fight,"  he  said. 

"  It's  best,  father,  as  it  is,  though,  for  there's 
Mary  to  be  taken  care  of." 

"  Yes,  the  fever  in  our  blood  makes  us  forget 
the  nearest  and  dearest  nowadays,  but  I'm  glad 
that  you  will  be  there  to  represent  me  any- 
way." 

From  that  time  all  the  enthusiasm  which 
Waters  had  felt  in  the  Northern  cause  was  cen- 
tred upon  his  son.  He  watched  him  on  the  pa- 
rade ground  with  undisguised  pride,  and  when 
Tom  came  home  in  the  glory  of  his  new  uniform, 
with  the  straps  upon  his  square  shoulders,  Brad- 
ford Waters'  voice  was  husky,  and  there  was  a 
moisture  in  his  eyes  as  he  said,  "  I'm  glad  now 
that  it's  you  who  are  going,  Tom,  for  I  under- 


SONS  AND  FATHEKS  49 

stand  what  a  poor  figure  I  must  have  made  among 
you  young  fellows." 

The  son  was  too  joyous  to  be  much  affected  by 
the  sadness  in  his  father's  tone,  and  he  only 
laughed  as  he  replied,  "  I  tell  you,  father,  those 
steel  muscles  of  yours  would  have  put  many  a 
young  fellow  to  the  blush  when  it  came  to 
endurance." 

"  Well,  it  isn't  my  chance.     You're  the  soldier." 

The  young  fellow  would  have  felt  a  pardonable 
pride  could  he  have  known  that  his  father  was 
saying  over  and  over  again,  "  Lieutenant  Thomas 
Waters,  Lieutenant  Thomas  Waters,  why  not 
captain  or  colonel  ?  "  And  his  pride  would  have 
been  tempered  could  he  have  known  also  that 
back  of  this  exclamation  was  the  question, "  Will 
he  come  back  to  me  ?  " 

For  so  long  a  time  had  Bradford  Waters  been 
both  father  and  mother  to  his  son  that  he  had 
come  to  have  some  of  the  qualities  of  both 
parents.  And  if  it  were  true,  as  Mary  said,  that 
in  this  war  the  women's  hearts  would  suffer 
most,  then  must  he  suffer  doubly.  With  the 
woman's  heart  of  the  mother  and  the  man's  heart 
of  the  father,  the  ache  had  already  begun  for  the 
struggle  was  on  between  the  tenderness  of  the 
one  and  the  pride  of  the  other ;  between  the 
mother's  love  and  the  father's  ambition.  At  the 
barracks,  or  on  the  parade  ground,  in  the  blare 


50  THE  FANATICS 

of  the  trumpets  where  Lieutenant  Waters  strode 
back  and  forth,  ambition  conquered.  But  in  the 
long  still  nights  when  his  boy  Tom  was  in  his 
thoughts  and  dreams,  only  love  and  tenderness 
held  him. 


CHAPTER  Y 

"THE  POMP  AND  CIKCUMSTANOE " 

The  shifting  scenes  in  the  panorama  of  the 
opening  war  brought  about  the  day  of  departure. 
The  company  to  which  Tom  Waters  belonged 
was  to  leave  on  an  afternoon  train  for  Columbus, 
and  Dorbury  was  alert  to  see  them  off ;  friend 
and  foe  swayed  by  the  same  excitement.  The 
town  took  on  the  appearance  and  spirit  of  a  gala 
day.  The  streets  were  full  of  sight-seers,  pedes- 
trians, riders  and  drivers,  for  the  event  had 
brought  in  the  farmers  from  surrounding  town- 
ships. Here  and  there,  the  blue  of  a  uniform 
showed  among  the  crowd  and  some  soldier  made 
his  way  proudly,  the  centre  of  an  admiring 
crowd.  A  troop  of  little  boys  fired  by  the  en- 
thusiasm of  their  elders  marched  to  and  fro  to 
the  doubtful  tune  of  a  shrill  fife  and  an  asthmatic 
drum.  People  who  lived  a  long  distance  away, 
and  who  consequently  had  been  compelled  to 
start  long  before  sunrise,  now  lolled  lazily 
around,  munching  ginger-bread,  or  sat  more  de- 

51 


62  THE  FANATICS 

corouslj  in  the  public  square,  eating  their  de- 
layed breakfasts. 

About  the  barracks,  which  were  the  quarters 
of  the  militia,  was  gathered  a  heterogeneous 
crowd.  Within,  there  was  the  sound  of  steady 
tramping,  as  the  sentinels  moved  back  and  forth 
over  their  beats.  Their  brothers  without,  were 
doing  a  more  practical  duty,  for  it  took  all  the 
bravery  of  their  bristling  bayonets  to  keep  back 
the  curious.  There  was  a  stir  among  them  like 
the  rippling  of  the  sea  by  the  wind  when  a  young 
man  in  the  uniform  of  a  private  of  the  Light 
Guards  hastened  up  and  elbowed  his  way  towards 
the  door.  There  was  a  buzz,  a  single  shout,  and 
then  a  burst  of  cheers,  as  the  young  man,  flushed 
and  hot,  leaped  up  the  steps  and  entered  the 
door.  Some  who  had  been  his  enemies  were  in 
the  crowd ;  some  who  had  laid  violent  hands  on 
him  only  a  few  days  before,  but  they  were  all 
his  friends  now.  It  was  Walter  Stewart.  He 
had  followed  the  leadings  of  his  own  mind  and 
stayed  with  his  company ;  but  somehow  the  ap- 
plause of  these  people  who  were  all  his  father's 
enemies,  was  very  bitter  to  him. 

After  Stewart,  came  a  figure  that  elicited  a 
shout  from  the  throng,  and  a  burst  of  laughter. 
It  was  the  town  crier,  Negro  Ed,  who  was  to  go 
as  servant  to  the  militia  captain,  Horace  Miller. 

"Hi,  Ed,"  called  one,  "ain't  you  afraid  they'll 


"POMP  AND  CIKCUMSTANCE "      53 

get  you  and  make  you  a  slave?"  and  "Don't 
forget  to  stop  at  Dorbury  when  you  get  to  run- 
ning I " 

Ed  was  usually  good-natured,  and  met  such 
sallies  with  a  grin,  but  a  new  cap  and  a  soldier's 
belt  had  had  their  effect  on  him,  and  he  marched 
among  his  deriders,  very  stern,  dignified  and 
erect,  as  if  the  arduous  duties  of  the  camp  were 
already  telling  upon  him.  The  only  reply  he 
vouchsafed  was  "Nemmine,  you  people,  nem- 
mine.  You  got  to  git  somebody  else  to  ring  yo' 
ol'  bell  now."  The  crowd  laughed.  There  came 
a  time  when  they  wept  at  thought  of  that  black 
buffoon  ;  the  town  nigger,  the  town  drunkard, 
when  in  the  hospital  and  by  deathbeds  his  touch 
was  as  the  touch  of  a  mother;  when  over  a 
blood-swept  field,  he  bore  a  woman's  dearest  and 
nursed  him  back  to  a  broken  life.  But  no  more 
of  that.  The  telling  of  it  must  be  left  to  a  time 
when  he  who  says  aught  of  a  negro's  virtues  will 
not  be  cried  down  as  an  advocate  drunk  with 
prejudice. 

To  the  listeners  outside  the  barracks  came  the 
noise  of  grounding  arms,  and  the  talk  of  men  re- 
lieved from  duty.  They  were  to  go  to  their 
homes  until  time  to  form  in  the  afternoon.  The 
authorities  were  considerate.  If  men  must  go 
to  war,  good-byes  must  be  said,  women  must 
weep  and  children  cling  to  their  fathers.     The 


64  THE  FAJSTATICS 

last  sad  meal  must  be  taken.  The  net  of  specu- 
lation must  be  thrown  out  to  catch  whatever 
motes  of  doubt  the  wind  of  war  may  blow,  and 
the  questions  must  fly,  "Will  he  come  back? 
Shall  I  see  him  again  ?  " 

Yes,  women  must  weep.  In  spite  of  all  the 
glory  of  war  they  will  cling  to  the  neck  of  the 
departing  husband,  brother  or  son.  Poor  foolish 
creatures ;  they  have  no  eye  then  for  the  brave 
array,  the  prancing  charger  and  the  gleaming 
arms.  The}^  have  no  ear  for  the  inspiring  fife 
and  drum. 

The  men  were  soberer  than  they  had  yet  been 
when  they  filed  out  of  the  barracks.  At  last, 
the  reality  of  things  was  coming  home  to  them. 
It  was  all  very  well,  this  drilling  on  the  common 
in  the  eyes  of  the  town,  but  now  for  the  result 
of  their  drills. 

Midway  among  them  came  Tom  and  Walter 
side  by  side,  lieutenant  and  private ;  they  had  not 
yet  come  to  feel  the  difference  in  their  positions. 

"  Well,  we'll  be  on  the  way  in  a  few  hours," 
said  Walter  as  they  passed  out  beyond  the  bor- 
ders of  the  crowd,  "  and  I'm  glad  of  it." 

"  I'm  glad,  too,  now  that  we're  in  it,  Walt,  and 
I'm  glad  to  be  in  it  myself.  But  it  means  a 
whole  lot,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  you're  leaving  your  family,"  re- 
plied Walter  tentatively. 


"POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE"      55 

"More  than  that." 

Both  young  men  smiled,  Walter  a  little  bit 
sheepishly.  He  had  been  Tom's  rival  for  Nannie 
"Wood's  affections,  and  had  taken  defeat  at  his 
hands. 

"  Oh,"  pursued  Tom,  "  if  the  fight  is  going  to 
be  as  short  as  many  people  think,  a  mere  brush, 
in  fact,  we  shan't  be  gone  long — but " 

"  The  people  who  think  this  is  going  to  be  a 
mere  brush  don't  know  the  temper  of  the  South." 

"  I  believe  you.  There'll  be  a  good  many  of 
us  who  won't  come  back." 

"  Oh,  well,  it's  one  time  or  another,"  and  "Wal- 
ter smiled  again  as  they  came  to  the  corner,  and 
Tom  turned  up  the  street  towards  Nannie's  house. 
"So  long." 

"  So  long,  until  this  afternoon,"  and  then  the 
young  lieutenant  found  himself  staring  straight 
into  the  eyes  of  Robert  Van  Doren.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  feeling  of  antagonism  which  had 
shown  in  his  conversation  with  Mary,  surged  over 
him,  but  in  the  next,  he  remembered  his  promise. 
He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Hello,  Bob,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  it's  hello  and 
good-bye  together." 

Bob  grasped  his  hand  warmly.  "Well,  I 
reckon  nobody'll  be  gladder  to  say  how-dye-do  to 
you  again  than  I,  Tom.     Good  luck." 

"Thanks,  Bob." 


66  THE  FANATICS 

"  Give  my  regards  to  Mary." 

"I  will."  Tom  started  on.  Suddenly  he 
turned  and  found  Yan  Doren  watching  him  with 
a  strange  expression  on  his  face.  He  went  back 
and  impulsively  seized  the  other's  hand.  "  Say> 
Bob,  what's  what  ?  " 

The  blood  went  out  of  Yan  Doren's  face. 
"  God  knows,"  he  said  in  a  pained  voice,  "  that's 
just  what  I've  been  asking  myself,  and  I  don't 
know  yet,  Tom." 

The  young  man  paused  ashamed  of  this  show 
of  feeling,  then  he  said,  "  Well,  anyway,  Bob, 
good  luck,"  and  they  went  their  ways. 

In  his  heart,  Tom  believed  that  Kobert  Yan 
Doren  would  eventually  go  to  the  Confederacy, 
and  he  resented  what  to  him  seemed  flagrant  dis- 
loyalty. Ohio  was  Yan  Doren's  adopted  home, 
and  a  tender  mother  she  had  been  to  him.  Out 
of  her  bounty  she  had  given  him  well.  Now  to 
go  over  to  her  enemies !  The  fight  in  Tom's  mind 
as  to  his  manner  of  meeting  Yan  Doren  had  been 
brief  but  sharp.  The  result  was  less  the  outcome 
of  generosity  than  the  result  of  a  subtle  selfish- 
ness. It  was,  as  all  putting  one's  self  in  another's 
place  is,  the  sacrifice  which  we  make  to  the  gods 
of  our  own  desires,  the  concession  we  make  to 
our  weakness.  He  forgave  Kobert,  not  because 
Mary  loved  and  was  about  to  lose  him,  but  be- 
cause he,  himself,  loved  Nannie,  and  for  a  time, 


"  POMP  AND  CIKCUMSTANCE  "      57 

at  least,  was  about  to  lose  her.  The  grasp  which 
he  gave  Bob's  hand  meant  pity  for  himself  as 
well  as  for  his  sister. 

There  was  a  flash  of  pride  on  Nannie's  face, 
though  tears  stood  in  her  eyes  as  she  saw  her 
lover  approaching.  She  had  been  expecting  him 
and  was  at  the  gate.  The  soft  April  sunshine 
was  playing  on  her  gold-brown  hair,  and  in  her 
simple  pink  dimity  gown  she  looked  akin  to  the 
morning  glories  that  blossomed  about  her.  She 
opened  the  gate  and  took  the  young  man's  hand, 
and  together  they  passed  around  the  side  of  the 
house,  to  a  rustic  bench  among  the  verbenas  and 
sweet  Williams. 

There  was  a  simplicity  and  frankness  about 
Nannie's  love  that  was  almost  primitive.  It  was 
so  natural,  so  spontaneous,  so  unashamed.  It 
looked  you  as  squarely  in  the  face  as  did  her  co- 
quetry. But  there  was  no  sign  of  coquetry  now. 
Gone  were  all  her  whims  and  quips,  her  airs  and 
graces.  There  had  come  into  her  life  the  trans- 
muting element  that  suddenly  makes  a  maid 
a  woman. 

For  a  time  the  two  sat  in  silence  on  her  flower- 
surrounded  bench.  Tom,  afraid  to  trust  his  voice, 
and  Nannie  finding  a  certain  satisfaction  in 
merely  pressing  the  hand  she  held. 

Finally,  he  broke  silence.  "  Well,  the  time  is 
about  here,  Nannie." 


58  THE  FAKATICS 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  drawing  his  hand  closer 
and  caressing  it,  "  you — you're  glad,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Glad  ?  Well,  that's  a  hard  question.  I'm 
glad,  of  course,  but — but " —  he  struggled  to  grasp 
the  elusive  idea  that  was  floating  in  his  brain — 
"  but  there  is  more  than  one  kind  of  being  glad. 
I  am  glad,  to  be  sure,  as  a  citizen,  and  I'm  sorry 
as  a  man " 

"  You're  sorry  because " 


"  You  know  why,  little  girl,  I'm  sorry  to  leave 
you.  I'm  sorry  to  take  any  chance  of  never  being 
able  to  call  you  wife.  It  may  be  cowardly,  but 
at  such  a  time,  the  thought  is  forced  irresistibly 
upon  a  man." 

"  It  isn't  cowardly,  Tom,  it  isn't.  It's  manly, 
I  know  it  is,  because  you're  thinking  about  me. 
Oh,  but  I  shall  miss  you  when  you  are  gone. 
But  I'll  pray  for  you,  and  I'll  try  to  be  as 
brave  up  here  as  you  are  down  there.  You 
are  wrong,  Tom,  you  are  very  brave,  braver 
than  the  men  who  do  not  think  to  sorrow  for 
the  women,  but  go  rushing  into  this  war  with 
a  blind  enthusiasm  that  will  not  let  them  feel. 
You're  brave,  you're  brave,  and  I'm  going  to 
be,  but  I  can't  help  it ! "  He  caught  her  in  his 
arms,  and  strained  the  weeping  face  to  his 
breast. 

"  Darling,  darling,  my  brave  little  girl,  don't 
cry."    A  man  is  so  helpless,  so  wordless  in  these 


"POMP  AND  CIECUMSTANCE "      59 

times.  He  can  do  nothing  but  stammer  and  ex- 
claim and  lavish  caresses. 

After  the  first  gust  of  weeping  was  over,  she 
raised  her  tear-stained  face,  and  said  with  a  rainy 
smile,  "  I  want  you  to  understand,  Tom,  I'm  not 
crying  all  for  grief.  It's  just  as  much  pride  as  it 
is  sorrow.  Oh,  I've  been  spoiling  your  uniform." 
There  was  somewhat  of  a  return  of  her  old  co- 
quetry of  manner,  and  her  lover  was  unspeakably 
cheered.  He  had  felt  in  that  brief  moment  of 
passion  as  he  had  never  felt  before ;  how  near 
the  ocean  of  tears  lay  to  the  outer  air  and  how 
strong  was  their  surge  against  the  barriers  of 
manhood.  But  her  change  of  manner  gave  him 
the  courage  to  say  the  tender  good-bye — the  fare- 
well too  sacred  to  be  spied  upon.  Ah,  how  his 
heart  ached  within  him.  How  his  throat  swelled, 
and  she  smiled  and  smiled,  though  her  eyes  grew 
moist  again.  And  he  went  on  inspired  by  the 
heroism  of  a  woman's  smile,  the  smile  she  gives 
even  when  she  sends  her  dear  ones  forth  to  face 
death. 

He  bade  good-bye  to  Nannie's  family,  and  went 
home  to  a  sad  meal  and  a  repetition  of  his  leave- 
takings. 

The  sister  hardly  succeeded  as  well  as  the 
sweetheart  in  hiding  her  emotions.  Her  heart 
was  already  heavy,  and  she  wept,  not  only  at  the 
fear  of  death,  but  with  the  pain  of  love.     At  the 


60  THE  FANATICS 

very  last,  when  he  was  going  to  take  his  place 
in  the  ranks,  she  broke  down,  and  clung  sobbing 
to  her  brother.  Tom  gulped,  and  the  father, 
wringing  his  son's  hands,  took  away  her  arms 
and  comforted  her  as  best  he  could.  His  eyes 
were  bright  and  hard  with  the  stress  of  the  fight 
he  was  having  with  his  feelings,  but  his  voice 
was  firm.  Bradford  Waters  showed  the  mettle 
of  his  pasture.  A  'New  Englander,  born  and 
reared  in  that  section  of  the  country  which  has 
produced  the  most  and  the  least  emotional  peo- 
ple, men  the  most  conservative  and  the  most 
radical ;  the  wisest  philosophers  and  the  wildest 
fanatics,  he  did  not  disgrace  his  breeding. 

It  was  easier  for  Tom,  when  he  was  once 
more  in  the  ranks.  Then  he  felt  again  the  in- 
fectious spirit  of  enthusiasm  which  swayed  his 
comrades.  His  heart  beat  with  the  drums.  He 
heard  the  people  cheering  as  they  went  down  the 
street.  Handkerchiefs  were  waving  from  win- 
dows and  balconies,  and  there  was  a  following 
that  half  walked,  half  trotted  to  keep  up  with 
the  swinging  stride  of  the  soldiers.  The  train 
that  was  to  bear  them  away  stood  pufiing  in  the 
station.  They  crowded  on.  Here  and  there,  a 
man  dropped  into  his  seat  and  buried  his  head  in 
his  hands,  but  most  of  the  heads  were  out  of  the 
windows  nodding  good-byes.  There  was  an  air 
of  forced  gayety  over  it  all.     Young  fellows  with 


"POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE"      61 

flushed  cheeks  laughed  hard  laughs,  and  bit  their 
lips  the  moment  after.  It  was  as  if  no  one 
wanted  to  think  and  yet  thought  would  come. 
Children  were  held  up  to  be  kissed,  their  mothers 
weeping  openly  as  is  a  mother's  right.  Fathers 
would  start  a  reassuring  sentence,  and  suddenly 
break  off  to  laugh  brokenly,  short  skeleton  laughs 
that  were  sadder  than  tears.  Then  the  bell  gave 
warning  and  with  a  last  rousing  shout,  they  were 
off  for  the  state  capital  and  the  chances  of  war. 

Tom  caught  the  last  glimpse  of  the  family  and 
Nannie  as  they  stood  together  on  the  platform. 
They  were  waving  to  him  and  he  waved  back. 
Nannie  and  Mary  stood  with  clasped  hands 
watching  the  long  line  of  cars.  On  the  former's 
face  there  was  sorrow  and  pride ;  sorrow  for  her 
lover,  pride  for  her  soldier ;  but  with  the  latter 
was  only  grief,  for  she  could  not  be  thoroughly 
loyal  to  her  brother  without  feeling  disloyalty  to 
her  lover.  Bradford  Waters  walked  with  the 
crowd,  but  the  two  girls  stood  still,  until  they 
heard  the  train  whistle  and  slacken  speed  as  it 
crossed  the  railroad  bridge,  then  they  turned  and 
walked  back  to  the  town.  A  few  moments  be- 
fore the  place  had  been  all  movement  and  life ; 
now  it  was  left  to  silence  and  tears. 


CHAPTEK  YI 

A  LONE  FIGHT 

There  was  one  man  whom  the  moving  glory 
of  the  departing  troops  filled  with  no  elation. 
From  a  distant  point,  Bob  Yan  Doren  saw  the 
blue  lines  swinging  down  the  streets  of  Dorbury, 
and  heard  the  shriek  of  the  fifes.  But  there  was 
in  him  no  inclination  to  join  in  the  shouting  or  to 
follow  the  admiring  crowd.  He  was  possessed 
neither  by  the  joyous  nor  the  sorrowing  interest 
of  the  citizen,  nor  yet  by  the  cowardly  shame  of 
the  stay-at-home.  While  he  could  not  go  as  far 
as  his  father  and  stay  within  the  closed  and 
shuttered  house,  yet  he  felt  that  he  was  not  a 
part  of  the  flag-flying,  drum-beating  throng. 
Many  of  the  young  fellows  there  were  his  friends 
who  had  eaten  and  drunk  with  him.  They 
had  laughed  and  sported  together  both  as  men 
and  boys.  But  now,  suddenly,  it  seemed  that 
something  had  arisen  to  make  them  entirely  dif- 
ferent, and  to  put  him  as  far  apart  from  them 
and  their  sympathies  as  if  they  had  been  born  at 

62 


A  LONE  FIGHT  63 

opposite  poles.  What  was  this  impalpable  some- 
thing ?  he  asked  himself.  Was  it  in  him,  in  them 
or  outside  and  beyond  them  both  ?  Or  to  get  at 
the  bottom  of  things,  did  it  really  exist  ?  Their 
training  and  his  had  been  very  much  the  same. 
They  had  gone  to  the  same  schools,  read  the 
same  books  and  adored  the  same  heroes.  What, 
then,  was  the  subtle  element  that  had  entered 
into  life  to  divide  them  ? 

These  were  the  questions  he  was  asking  him- 
self as  he  heard  the  farewell  shouts  of  the  depart- 
ing troops  and  the  clanging  of  the  train  bell. 
Then  he  turned  and  with  his  mind  full  of  harass- 
ing inquiries  took  his  way  home. 

"  Well,  they're  off  to  help  rob  the  South  of  its 
niggers,  are  they  ?  "  said  his  father. 

"  They  are  gone,"  replied  Eobert  laconically. 
He  was  not  in  the  mood  to  talk. 

"  Humph,  Southern  buzzards  will  be  the  fatter 
for  them." 

"Don't,  father,  that's  horrible.  There  are  a 
good  many  of  the  fellows  we  both  knew  and 
liked  among  them." 

Stephen  Yan  Doren  flashed  a  quick  suspicious 
glance  at  his  son  as  he  remarked,  "  So  much  the 
worse  for  them." 

"  I  wish  it  might  have  been  settled  some  other 
way,"  pursued  Eobert  drearily,  "  I'd  rather  have 
let  the  South  secede  than  institute  this  orgie  of 


64  THE  FANATICS 

unnatural  bloodshed,  brother  against  brother, 
friend  against  friend." 

Again  his  father  flashed  that  white  question- 
ing look  at  him.  Then  he  rose  abruptly  and  left 
the  room.  Robert  hardly  noticed  the  movement, 
so  absorbed  was  he  in  his  own  thoughts,  but  sat 
staring  blankly  before  him.  He  was  momen- 
tarily aroused  from  his  reverie  by  the  reentrance 
of  his  father,  who  laid  an  old  miniature  upon  the 
table  before  him,  and  went  out  again  without  a 
word.  Robert  picked  up  the  picture.  It  was 
the  portrait  of  a  beautiful  young  woman  painted 
in  the  style  of  forty  years  before — his  mother — 
and  her  name  was  written  on  a  piece  of  yellow 
paper  stuck  in  the  frame,  "  Virginia  Nelson,  Fair- 
fax Courthouse,  Virginia. "  He  gazed  at  the 
picture  and  read  and  re-read  the  inscription, 
"  Fairfax  Courthouse."  What  a  quaint  old- 
fashioned,  southern  sound  it  had.  It  seemed  red- 
olent of  magnolias  and  jessamine  and  soft  as 
the  speech  of  its  own  citizens.  But  was  that 
home,  or  this,  the  place  where  his  youth  and 
early  manhood  had  been  passed?  Which  was 
home,  the  place  of  memories  or  the  place  of 
action?  What  makes  home;  dreams  or  labor; 
the  hopes  of  boyhood  or  the  hard  reality  of  later 
life? 

To  young  Van  Doren,  the  memory  of  his 
mother,  who  had  lived  only  two  years  after  com- 


A  LONE  FIGHT  66 

ing  North,  had  been  as  a  guiding  star  and  he 
knew  that  it  was  to  recall  this  that  his  father  had 
brought  him  the  picture.  It  was  apparent  that 
he  must  have  been  strongly  moved,  for  that  little 
worn  and  faded  miniature  seldom  left  the  old 
man's  desk.  His  father  felt  deeply ;  so  did  he. 
His  mother's  eyes  were  pleading  with  him. 
Sentiment,  said  his  mind ;  truth,  said  his  heart. 

Finally,  he  laid  the  picture  face  downward  on 
the  table.  He  told  himself  it  must  not  enter 
into  his  thoughts  at  all.  But  his  mind  would  not 
let  it  go.  Eel-like,  his  consciousness  wrapped 
itself  about  it  and  would  not  let  it  go.  He  felt 
guilty  when  the  thought  assailed  him  that  per- 
haps the  face  of  another  woman  which  was 
graven  on  his  heart,  argued  more  strongly  than 
the  pictured  one.  "  Mary,  Mary,"  his  heart  said, 
"  is  my  love  for  you  blinding  me  to  right  and 
justice  ?  While  other  men  decide  and  do,  I 
stand  still  here  waiting  and  asking  what  to  do." 
He  thought  of  Walter  Stewart  and  the  apparent 
ease  with  which  he  had  made  a  hard  decision, 
and  his  anger  flashed  up  against  his  own  impo- 
tence ;  but  still  his  inclination  wavered  weakly 
back  and  forth.  The  Union,  the  Confederacy; 
the  place  of  his  boyhood  and  the  home  of  his 
manhood. 

At  last,  he  asked  himself  the  question  which 
he  had  so  long  shunned.  What  he  believed  ?  and 


66  THE  FANATICS 

he  was  compelled  to  answer  that  his  convictions 
leaned  to  the  side  of  those  who  were  in  arms 
against  the  general  government.  Then  there 
was  but  one  thing  to  do.  He  stood  up,  very  pale 
and  sad  of  countenance,  trembling  on  the  verge 
of  a  decision.  But  suddenly  as  out  of  nowhere, 
a  voice  seemed  to  sound  into  his  very  being, 
"  Has  love  no  right  ?  "  "  Good  God,"  he  cried 
aloud,  "  shall  I  go  on  this  way,  forever  waver- 
ing ?  Shall  I  go  on  being  a  coward,  I  who  hate 
cowardice  ?  "  His  heart  was  burning  with  pain, 
misery  and  anger  and  shame  at  himself,  and  yet 
he  could  not,  he  dared  not  say  where  he  stood. 
The  fact  that  he  tried  to  fight  out  of  recognition, 
and  herein  lay  his  greatest  cowardice,  was  that 
he  did  not  feel  the  Southern  cause  deeply  enough 
to  risk  losing  the  woman  he  loved  by  its  espousal ; 
nor  could  he  leap  open-eyed  into  the  Northern 
movement,  for  which  he  had  no  sympathy.  Had 
he  felt  either  as  deeply  as  did  Bradford  Waters 
or  his  own  father,  he  would  not  have  hesitated 
where  to  take  his  place. 

The  struggle  in  his  mind  had  not  just  begun. 
From  the  very  moment  that  the  atmosphere  had 
become  electric  with  the  currents  of  opposing 
beliefs,  he  had  felt  himself  drawn  into  the  cir- 
cuit. But,  by  nature,  always  inexpressive,  he 
had  said  nothing,  and  left  those  who  thought  of 
him  to  the  conviction  that  he  was  unmoved  by 


A  LONE  FIGHT  6Y 

passing  events.  But  the  lone  nights  and  the  grey 
dawns  knew  better.  Many  a  time  had  he  gone 
to  bed  after  a  period  of  earnest,  self -searching, 
satisfied  at  last,  and  saying,  "It  is  true,  I  shall 
take  my  stand,"  only  to  wake  and  find  that 
everything  was  changed  in  the  light  of  day. 
Many  a  time  had  morning  found  him  in  his  chair 
where  he  had  sat  all  night,  trying  to  wrench 
order  out  of  the  chaos  of  his  mind.  And  now, 
now,  it  was  no  better. 

There  was  a  step  in  the  hall,  and  his  father 
looked  in  on  him  for  a  moment  and  passed  on. 
Eobert  knew  that  he  was  going  through  an 
ordeal  no  less  terrible  than  his  own,  and  he 
wished  that  it  might  be  ended,  even  if  it  brought 
strife  and  separation  between  them  as  it  had 
done  between  Walter  Stewart  and  his  father. 
The  thought  had  hardly  left  his  brain  when  it 
was  occupied  by  another.  Was  he  to  be  watched 
like  a  child  who  was  likely  to  get  into  mischief  ? 
This  was  too  much,  too  much.  He  had  borne 
with  his  father  as  long  as  he  could.  ]S"ow  he 
would  show  him  that  he  was  his  own  master,  to 
go  his  own  way.  Anyway,  it  was  his  concern 
alone.  With  whichever  side  he  went,  he  must  be 
shot  for  himself.  If  he  stayed  at  home,  it  was 
he  who  must  bear  the  sneers  and  jokes,  who  must 
live  down  the  contumely.  Whose  right  was  it, 
then,  to  institute  an  annoying  surveillance  over 


68  THE  rA:t^ATICS 

him  ?  Not  even  his  father's.  It  had  come  to  a 
pretty  pass  when  a  man  might  not  think  without 
interruption.  Bah,  he  could  not  call  his  soul  his 
own.  It  was  only  the  sign  of  his  nervous  condi- 
tion that  he  should  fall  into  this  state  of  petu- 
lant anger. 

Then  unaccountably,  his  whole  mental  atti- 
tude changed,  and  the  appearance  of  his  father's 
questioning  face  in  the  door,  struck  him  only 
with  a  ludicrous  aspect.  He  thought  of  himself 
as  some  coquettish  but  wavering  maiden  who 
bade  her  lover  wait  outside  until  she  could  an- 
swer the  momentous  question,  yes  or  no,  and  he 
burst  out  laughing. 

But  his  mirth  was  short  and  unnatural. 

"  I  am  either  a  fool  or  a  brute,"  he  said,  "  I 
know  that  father  and  Mary  are  both  watching 
me,  but  they  have  a  right  to  watch  and  they 
have  the  right  to  demand  from  me  the  answer  in 
their  hearts." 

He  paused  as  if  a  new  thought  had  struck  him. 
Then  he  rose  and  took  his  hat.  "  I'll  do  it,"  he 
exclaimed  passionately,  "  I'll  go  to  her  and  let 
her  help  me.  Why  haven't  I  thought  of  it  be- 
fore ? "  He  passed  out  and  called  to  his  father 
as  he  went,  "  I'm  going  out  for  a  while,  father." 

"  All  right,"  was  the  answer,  but  the  words 
that  followed  solemnly  were,  "  The  boy  is  driven 
out  into  the  street,  even  as  the  men  possessed  of 


A  LONE  FIGHT  69 

devils  spirit  were  driven  to  the  rocks  and  the 
tombs.  It  is  the  evil  spirit  of  Northern  narrow- 
ness working  in  him." 

It  was  with  a  heart  somewhat  lightened  by  the 
hope  of  relief  that  Robert  Yan  Doren  hastened 
along  the  street  towards  the  Waters'  home.  So 
much  had  passed  in  the  days  since  he  had  last 
stood  at  the  gate  that  the  little  difference  be- 
tween him  and  the  father  of  the  woman  he  loved 
appeared  as  a  very  small  thing.  When  two  great 
sections  of  a  nation  are  arrayed  against  each 
other,  there  is  no  time  for  the  harboring  of  petty 
angers.  Two  thoughts  held  him.  He  would  see 
Mary  again.  She  would  help  him,  and  his  honor 
should  come  to  its  own.  These  thoughts  left  no 
room  in  his  mind  for  malice. 

No  misgiving  touched  him  even  when  he  stood 
at  the  door  and  his  knock  brought  Mary  to  the 
door.  She  looked  at  him  with  a  frightened  face, 
and  turned  involuntarily  to  glance  at  her  father 
who  sat  within. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  "  she  said  in  a  low, 
hurried  voice. 

"  Nothing,  only  I  want  your  advice  and  help," 
said  Yan  Doren,  stepping  across  the  threshold. 

At  the  voice  and  step,  Bradford  Waters  rose 
and  faced  the  visitor,  and  his  face  began  working 
with  growing  anger.  "  What  do  you  mean  by 
invading  my  house,  again,  Robert  Yan  Doren  ?  " 


YO  THE  FANATICS 

"  I  came  to  see  Mary." 

Waters  took  his  daughter  by  the  hand  as  if  he 
would  put  himself  between  the  girl  and  her  lover. 
"  Mary  can  have  no  dealings  with  you  or  your 
kind.  We  do  not  want  you  here.  I  have  told 
you  that  before.     Your  way  and  ours  lie  apart." 

"  They  have  not  always  lain  apart  and  need 
not  now."  Yan  Doren's  surprise  was  stronger 
than  his  resentment  as  he  looked  into  the  old 
man's  passionate  face.  Could  a  few  days  work 
such  a  change  in  a  man  ? 

"  They  must  and  shall  lie  apart,"  Waters  took 
him  up  hotly.  "  What  you  have  been  to  this  fam- 
ily, you  cannot  be  again." 

"  What  have  I  done  to  forfeit  your  respect  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  what  you've  done,  but  what  you 
are." 

"  How  do  you  know  what  I  am  ?  " 

"That's  it.  At  least,  your  father  has  the 
courage  to  come  out  and  say  what  he  is.  You 
haven't.     At  least,  he  is  a  man " 

"  Father,  father,"  cried  Mary,  "  don't  say  any 
more !  " 

"  I'm  sorry  to  see  a  daughter  of  mine,"  said 
Waters,  turning  upon  her,  "  pleading  for  one  of 
those  whom  her  brother  has  gone  South  to  kill." 
The  girl  put  her  hands  up  quickly  as  if  she  would 
check  the  words  upon  her  father's  lips.  Yan 
Doren  had  turned  very  white.     He  stood  as  one 


A  LOIsTE  FIGHT  71 

stunned.  All  his  hopes  of  help  had  been  sud- 
denly checked,  and  instead  of  sympathy,  he 
had  received  hard  words.  But  a  smile  curved 
his  lips. 

"  Have  I  not  said  enough,  Kobert  Yan 
Doren  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  still  with  a  quiet  smile, 
"  you  have  said  enough,"  and  he  turned  towards 
the  door. 

Mary  sprang  away  from  her  father.  "  Kobert, 
Kobert,  don't  go,"  she  cried,  "he  doesn't  mean  it. 
This  great  trouble  has  made  him  mad."  Brad- 
ford Waters  started  to  speak  but  stopped  as  the 
young  man  put  off  the  girl's  detaining  hand. 
"  I  must  go,  Mary,"  he  said,  "  your  father  is 
right.  We  have  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways. 
I  have  not  had  the  courage  to  say  where  I  stood, 
but  I  have  it  now.  I  came  for  help  to  decide  a 
momentous  question.  I  have  got  it.  Good-bye, 
Mary,  good-bye — Mr.  Waters,  the  Confederacy 
may  thank  you  for  another  recruit." 

He  opened  the  door  and  passed  out,  the  old 
man's  voice  ringing  after  him,  "  Better  an  open 
rebel  than  a  copperhead."  A  hard  look  came 
into  the  girl's  eyes. 

"  You  needn't  worry,"  said  her  father,  "  it's 
good  riddance."     She  made  no  reply. 

In  spite  of  all  that  passed,  Kobert  Yan  Doren 
went  home  in  a  lighter  frame  of  mind. 


7^  THE  FANATICS 

"  I'm  going  to  leave  to-morrow,"  he  said  to  his 
father. 

"  You  have  made  your  choice  ?  " 

"  The  South  needs  me,"  returned  the  young 
man  evasively.  His  father  came  to  him  and 
kissed  him  on  both  cheeks.  Then  he  took  the 
miniature  from  the  table  and  placed  it  on  his 
breast. 

"I  knew  that  your  mother  would  not  plead 
with  you  in  vain,"  he  said,  and  Kobert  smiled 
bitterly. 


CHAPTER  YII 

DIVIDED   HOUSES 

There  is  a  tragic  quietness  about  a  town 
whose  best  and  bravest  have  gone  to  a  doubtful 
battlefield.  The  whole  place  seems  hushed  and 
on  tiptoe  as  if  listening  for  some  sound  from  the 
field.  The  cry  of  a  cricket  shivers  the  silenee 
into  splinters  of  sound,  and  each  one  pierces  the 
ear  with  a  sharpness  which  is  almost  pain.  It 
was  under  such  a  pall  of  stillness  that  Dorbury 
lay  immediately  after  the  departure  of  the  troops. 
It  was  not  altogether  the  torpor  that  succeeds  an 
upheaval.  Part  of  it  was  the  breathless  silence 
of  expectancy,  as  when  from  a  height  some  one 
hurls  a  boulder  into  space  and  waits  to  hear  it 
fall.  Of  course,  it  would  be  some  time  before 
they  could  expect  to  hear  from  the  new  soldiers, 
and  yet,  Dorbury  listened,  expectant  hand  to  ear. 

The  spring  sunshine,  not  yet  strong  nor  violent 
enough  to  destroy  its  own  sweetness,  fell  with  a 
golden  caress  on  the  quiet  streets.  To  some, 
who  went  to  and  fro,  bowed  with  anxiety,  it 
seemed  strange  that  in  such  a  time,  nature  should 

73 


74  THE  FANATICS 

go  on  performing  her  processes  as  she  had  always 
done.  Their  hearts  seemed  to  stand  still,  but 
time  went  on,  the  flowers  bloomed,  the  grasses 
sprung  and  the  restless  river  sang  to  the  silent 
town. 

The  tension  of  suspense  had  told  greatly  upon 
Bradford  "Waters'  character.  From  being  a  gen- 
tle father,  he  had  grown  to  be  short,  almost  harsh 
to  Mary.  His  love  and  fear  for  his  soldier  son 
had  made  him  blind  to  the  pain  his  daughter 
suffered. 

He  was  so  far  gone  in  the  earnestness  of  his 
views  that  he  could  see  nothing  but  a  perverse 
disloyalty  in  his  daughter's  feeling  towards 
Robert  Van  Doren.  His  friendship  for  the 
young  fellow  had  changed  with  the  changing 
of  the  times,  and  he  could  not  understand  that  a 
woman's  love  may  be  stronger  than  her  politics ; 
her  heart  truer  to  its  affections  than  her  head  to 
its  principles. 

It  can  hardly  be  said  of  Mary  that  she  felt 
more  than  she  thought,  but  her  emotions  were 
stronger  than  her  convictions.  It  was  the  worse 
for  her  state  of  mind  that  for  two  widely  differ, 
ent  reasons,  the  taking  of  her  brother  and  the 
estrangement  from  her  lover,  she  was  placed  in 
a  resentful  position  against  the  cause  that  she 
naturally  would  have  espoused. 

Still,  at  first,  she  kept  a  certain  appearance  of 


DIVIDED  HOUSES  Y5 

loyalty,  and  when  some  of  the  girls  with  impet- 
uous enthusiasm,  started  a  sewing  circle  for  the 
soldiers,  she  joined  with  them,  and  began  to  ply 
her  needle  in  the  interest  of  the  Union  troops. 
But  among  these  friends  of  undivided  interests, 
it  was  not  always  pleasant  for  Mary.  All  about 
her,  she  heard  sentiments  that  did  not  comport 
with  the  feelings  of  one  who  had  loved  ones  on 
both  sides  of  the  great  question.  Over  the  lint 
and  flannels  that  passed  through  the  sewers' 
hands,  were  made  several  hot  and  thoughtless 
speeches  that  seared  the  very  soul  of  one  poor 
girl.  They  were  not  intentional.  Most  of  them, 
had  they  known  that  one  among  them  suffered 
from  their  unthinking  remarks,  would  have  held 
their  tongues.  Others,  not  more  than  one  or 
two,  be  it  said,  knew  that  every  sneer  they  cast 
at  the  army  of  the  South,  every  hard  wish  they 
expressed,  tore  like  an  arrow  through  the  tender 
heart  of  the  pale  sad  girl  in  the  corner  who  bent 
so  silently  over  her  work. 

"  I  do  wish,"  said  little  Martha  Blake  one  day, 
"  that  the  whole  Southern  army  was  drowned  in 
the  depths  of  the  sea.    They  are  so  troublesome." 

"  What  would  their  sisters  do  ?  "  asked  Mary 
quietly. 

"  Oh,  really,  they  seem  such  monsters  to  me 
that  I  never  thought  of  their  having  sisters." 

Mary  smiled.    "  And  yet  they  have,"  she  said, 


76  THE  FANATICS 

"  some  of  them,  perhaps,  making  just  as  foolish  a 
wish  about  our  brothers  as  you  have  made  about 
them." 

"  I  know  it's  foolish,"  Martha  pursued,  "  but  it 
has  never  seemed  to  me  that  those  people  down 
there  who  have  done  so  much  to  tempt  the 
I^orthern  government  are  quite  the  same  as  we 
are." 

Unconsciously,  Mary  took  the  defensive  and 
stepped  over  into  the  point  of  view  of  the  man 
whom  in  her  heart  she  was  defending. 

"  But  why,"  she  exclaimed,  "  do  you  say  the 
IN'orthern  government?  The  very  mention  of 
the  word  denies  the  principle  for  which  we  claim 
we  are  fighting — that  there  is  no  North,  no 
South,  but  one  country  inseparable  into  sec- 
tions." 

"  I  had  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Martha. 

"  I  don't  think  any  of  us  have  thought  of  it," 
put  in  Anice  Crowder,  "  except  those  who  have 
very  dear  friends  among  the  traitors." 

Mary  turned  deadly  pale  for  she  knew  that 
Bob  Yan  Doren's  decision  had  just  become  gen- 
erally known.  She  turned  a  pair  of  flashing  eyes 
on  Anice  as  she  replied, 

"  No  man  is  a  traitor  who  fights  for  what  he 
believes  to  be  right." 

"  Any  man  is  a  traitor  who  lives  under  one 
flag  and  leaves  it  to  fight  under  another." 


DIVIDED  HOUSES  77 

"  A  man  is  accountable  only  to  his  conscience 
and  his  God." 

"Yes,  when  he  has  proved  traitor  to  every 
other  tie,  only  then." 

The  words  cut  Mary  like  a  knife.  She  rose, 
work  in  hand  and  stood  quivering  with  passion 
as  she  looked  down  on  her  insulter. 

"  Then  the  woman  who  cares  for  such  a  man, 
who  dares  stand  up  for  him  is  a  traitor  too  ?  " 
she  cried  as  she  flung  her  work  to  the  floor. 

"  Yes,"  said  Anice  acidly. 

Mary  started  towards  the  door,  but  a  chorus  of 
girls'  voices  checked  her. 

"  Don't  go,  Mary,"  they  cried,  "  we  know,  we 
don't  blame  you."  But  the  girl's  heart  was 
overburdened,  and  bursting  into  tears,  she  fled 
from  the  room.  She  heard  the  hubbub  of  voices 
as  she  went  hastily  out  of  the  house,  and  even 
in  that  moment  of  grief  she  was  glad  that  some 
of  the  girls  there  would  be  quick  to  defend  her. 
She  knew  who  must  have  been  foremost  in  this 
defence  when  she  heard  a  light  step  behind 
her  and  felt  JSTannie  Woods'  arm  about  her 
waist. 

"Don't  cry,  Mary,"  said  Nannie  soothingly. 
"  No  one  minds  Anice  Crowder  or  anything  she 
says.  Anyway,  I  gave  her  a  good  piece  of  my 
mind  before  I  left  there,  and  so  did  some  of  the 
rest  of  the  girls.     I  just  told  her  right  to  her 


7S  THE  FANATICS 

face  that  she'd  have  more  feeling  for  people  if 
she  had  a  lover  on  either  side." 

Mary  was  forced  to  smile  a  little  at  her  friend's 
impetuosity.  But  from  her  heart  she  thanked 
the  girl,  and  drew  her  arm  tighter  about  her 
waist. 

"  I  suppose  Anice  thinks  that  I  can  send  my 
love  where  I  will,  and  that  I  am  to  blame  if  it 
does  not  go  in  the  right,  or  what  she  thinks,  the 
right  direction." 

''  She's  a  cat,"  was  the  emphatic  rejoinder, 
"  and  I  for  one,  will  never  go  to  their  old  sewing- 
circle.  We'll  sew  together,  just  you  and  I,  Mary, 
and  while  I'm  making  things  for  Tom,  there's  no 
reason  why  you  shouldn't  make  a  keepsake  for 
Bob  to  take  with  him." 

Mary  gasped. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  I  know  if  I  lived  down 
South  and  it  was  Tom,  I'd " 

"Hush,  Nannie,"  said  Mary  hurriedly,  "you 
mustn't  say  those  things." 

"  I  will  say  them  and  I  don't  care." 

They  reached  the  "Waters'  gate  and  the  girls 
parted.  There,  for  Nannie,  the  incident  closed, 
but  it  was  destined  to  cause  Mary  Waters  even 
more  suffering. 

Women's  sewing  circles  are  not  usually  noted 
for  their  reticence,  and  the  institution  at  Dorbury 
was  no  exception.     Within  an  hour  after  it  hap- 


DIVIDED  HOUSES  79 

pened,  the  whole  affair  was  out  to  the  town,  and 
the  story  in  a  highly  embellished  form  reached 
Bradford  Waters'  ears. 

He  went  home  in  a  white  passion.  Mary  had 
got  supper  and  was  sitting  idly  by  the  window 
when  her  father  burst  into  the  room.  She  looked 
up  and  saw  on  the  instant  that  he  had  heard. 

"What  is  this  I  hear  of  you  at  the  sewing- 
circle  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  the  truth  or  part 
of  it." 

"  So  it  has  come  to  the  pass  where  my  daughter 
must  defend  a  former  copperhead  and  now  an 
avowed  rebel ! " 

"The  man  whom  I  defended,  if  defence  it 
could  be  called,  was  to  me  neither  copperhead 
nor  rebel.  He  was  my  lover.  I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  his  politics.  The  war  has  nothing  to 
do  with  my  love." 

She  was  calmer  than  usual,  and  her  very  quiet- 
ness exasperated  her  father  the  more. 

"  I'll  have  no  more  of  it,"  he  cried  passionately, 
"  I'll  have  no  more  of  it.  Love  or  no  love,  a 
house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand.  My 
house  must  be  with  me.  And  if  my  daughter 
feels  called  upon  to  go  over  to  the  enemy's  side, 
she  must  go  over  to  the  enemy's  house.  My 
house  shall  not  shelter  her." 

"Father " 


80  THE  FANATICS 

"Enough,  I  have  said  mj  say.  You  must 
abide  by  it.  I'll  have  no  more  such  stories  as  I 
have  heard  to-day  poured  into  my  ears.  Either 
give  up  that  renegade  or  take  your  love  for  him 
to  another  roof." 

He  flung  himself  petulantly  into  a  chair  and 
fell  to  his  supper.  Mary  did  not  answer  him, 
only  a  look  of  hard  defiance  came  into  her  gentle 
eyes.  It  might  have  struck  Bradford  Waters 
had  he  seen  it,  but  he  did  not  look  at  her  again. 

A  little  kindness  might  have  done  much  to 
soften  the  rigor  of  Mary's  feelings,  and  so 
changed  the  course  of  events ;  for  she  was  easily 
swayed  through  her  affections.  She  would  not 
have  given  up  Yan  Doren,  his  hold  upon  her  was 
too  strong.  But  she  would  have  repressed  her- 
self even  to  the  hiding  of  her  feelings,  had  she 
not  been  driven  into  the  open  revolt  to  which 
her  father's  harsh  treatment  goaded  her.  'Now 
the  determination  to  be  true  to  her  lover  at  all 
hazards  came  upon  her  so  strongly  that  her  atti- 
tude really  became  one  of  aggression. 

It  was  now  that  the  remembrance  of  Nannie's 
thoughtless  words  came  to  her,  and  she  asked 
herself,  "Why  not?"  Why  should  she  not 
make  and  give  Yan  Doren  a  keepsake  to  take 
into  the  ranks  with  him  ?  She  had  suffered  sor- 
row for  his  sake  ;  in  effect,  she  had  been  forcibly, 
almost  involuntarily,  cast  on  his  side.     She  had 


DIVIDED  HOUSES  81 

to  withstand  contempt  and  reviling.  Would  this 
one  show  of  affection  be  so  much  more  ? 

That  evening,  Mary  was  very  busy  sewing, 
and  so  part  of  the  next  day,  until  the  time  when 
her  father  came  home.  Then  she  hastened  to 
leave  her  stitching  to  go  about  her  supper,  for  in 
the  absorption  of  her  new  idea,  she  had  neg- 
lected it. 

Bradford  Waters  looked  at  the  work  which 
had  stood  between  him  and  his  meals  with  an 
ill-concealed  exasperation.  Why  couldn't  women 
sew  at  the  proper  time  and  leave  off  properly  ? 
Maybe,  though,  it  was  something  for  her  brother 
Tom.  If  that  were  so,  he  did  not  care.  He 
would  go  without  his  meals  any  time,  that  Tom 
might  have  a  single  comfort.  Bless  the  brave 
boy.  His  face  softened,  and  he  looked  with  fill- 
ing eyes  as  his  mind  dwelt  on  tender  memories 
of  the  soldier  son.  Suddenly  the  bit  of  em- 
broidery there  on  the  shelf  seemed  to  take  on  a 
new  interest  for  him. 

Mary  was  crossing  the  floor  with  a  plate  in  her 
hand,  when  he  rose  and  going  to  the  shelf,  picked 
up  the  work.  She  made  an  involuntary  motion 
as  if  to  stop  him  and  take  it  away,  then  she 
paused  rigid. 

He  stood  smiling  down  on  the  sewing.  "  Some- 
thing for  Tom,"  he  began,  and  then  the  smile 
froze  and  the  words  died  on  his  lips  as  he  turned 


82  THE  FAISTATICS 

it  over.  It  was  only  a  little  maroon  housewife 
such  as  any  soldier  might  need  in  the  emergen- 
cies of  camp  life,  but  on  its  front  were  embroid- 
ered the  letters,  "  R.  Y.  D." 

He  stood  gazing  at  them  for  a  moment  as  if 
they  were  cabalistic,  and  the  mystery  was  just 
filtering  through  his  mind.  Then,  with  trem- 
bling hands,  he  threw  it  across  the  room. 

"My  God,"  he  cried,  "  and  I  thought  it  was  for 
her  brother !  And  it  is  for  the  comfort  of  the 
enemy ! " 

"It  is  only  a  keepsake,"  said  Mary  faintly. 
She  was  frightened  and  weakened  by  his  agita- 
tion. 

He  looked  at  her  as  if  he  saw  her  but  dimly, 
then  he  said  in  a  hard  voice,  "  This  is  the  end  of 
all.  Pick  it  up,"  pointing  to  the  housewife. 
"  Now  go.  Take  the  visible  evidence  of  your 
treason  and  go,  and  may  God  and  your  poor 
brother  forgive  you.     I  never  shall." 

At  another  time,  Mary  might  have  pleaded 
with  him,  but  she  was  dazed,  and  before  she  had 
recovered  her  presence  of  mind,  her  father  had 
left  the  house.  Then  she  too,  as  if  still  in  a 
dream,  picked  up  the  offending  gift  and  went  out. 

She  could  not  understand  her  father.  She  did 
not  know  what  the  gift  to  the  enemy  meant  to 
him.  How  he  felt  as  if  a  serpent  had  stung  him 
from  his  own  hearth. 


DIYIDED  HOUSES  83 

She  went  mechanically,  at  first,  scarce  know- 
ing which  way  she  tended.  Then  thought  came 
to  her,  and  with  the  keepsake  still  in  her  hand, 
she  turned  dry-eyed  towards  Nannie  Woods' 
house. 

"  It  was  such  a  little  thing,"  she  murmured  as 
she  went  into  the  house,  and  then  suddenly,  un- 
consciousness came  to  her. 


CHAPTEK  YIII 

AS  A  MAN  THINKETH  IN  HIS  HEAET 

When  Mary  recovered  consciousness,  it  was  to 
find  herself  lying  in  Nannie's  own  bed  and  her 
friend  beside  her.  For  a  moment,  she  did  not  re- 
member what  had  happened,  and  then  the  full 
flood  tide  of  recollection  swept  over  her  mind. 
She  buried  her  head  on  Nannie's  bosom  and 
sobbed  out  her  story. 

"  JSTever  mind,"  said  Nannie,  "  never  mind, 
you're  going  to  come  here  and  stay  with  me, 
that's  what  you  are  going  to  do.  No  hard- 
hearted fathers  are  going  to  bother  you,  that's 
what  they're  not." 

Say  what  you  will,  there  is  always  something 
of  the  child  left  in  every  woman,  and  though  the 
soft-hearted  girl  talked  and  cooed  to  Mary  as  she 
would  have  done  to  a  restless  child,  the  heart- 
broken woman  was  soothed  by  it. 

"  Don't  you  think  father  ought  to  understand, 
Nannie  ?  It  isn't  because  Kobert  is  a  copper- 
head or  a  rebel,  whichever  he  is,  that  I  love  him, 
but  in  spite  of  it." 

84 


AS  A  MAN  THINKETH  85 

"  Mary,"  said  E'annie,  and  her  voice  was  medi- 
tative and  her  face  dreamy,  "  don't  you  know 
there  never  was  a  man  yet  who  knew  how  or 
why  a  woman  loved  ?  "  A  new  wisdom,  a  half 
playful  wisdom  though  it  was,  seemed  to  have 
come  to  the  girl.  Some  women  never  grow 
clear-sighted  until  their  eyes  are  opened  to  the 
grey  form  of  an  oncoming  sorrow.  Nannie  was 
of  this  class.  "But,"  she  went  on  laughing, 
"  it's  all  the  fault  of  Father  Adam.  Men  are  so 
much  the  sons  of  their  fathers,  and  it  all  comes 
of  giving  him  the  first  woman  while  he  was 
asleep  and  not  letting  him  know  when  nor 
how." 

"  And  yet  men  do  love,"  said  Mary  seriously. 

"Oh,  of  course  they  love,  but — "  the  girls' 
eyes  met  and  both  of  them  blushed.  "  It  won't 
last  long  anyhow,  Mary,  so  what's  the  use  of  be- 
ing sad  ?  Let's  talk  about  them."  Nannie 
cuddled  down  close  to  the  bed. 

"  About  whom  ?  "  was  the  deceitful   question. 

"  Oh,  you  minx,  you  know  whom.  What's  the 
use  of  asking?  I  wonder  where  Tom  is  to- 
night ?  " 

"  It's  hard  telling,  they've  been  delaying  them 
so  much  along  the  road." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  right  at  all.  They  rushed 
them  off  toward  Washington,  and  I  think  they 
ought  to  be  allowed  to  get  there.     How's  a  man 


86  THE  FANATICS 

going  to  distinguish  himself  if  he  can't  get  any- 
where within  sight  of  the  enemy  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  your  spirit,  Nannie,  I  wish  I  had. 
I  forget  all  about  distinction.  I  only  wonder 
how  it's  all  going  to  turn  out,  and  if  those  I  love 
are  coming  back  to  me." 

"Oh,  Mary,  don't  be  like  that.  Of  course, 
they're  coming  back,  Tom  and  Rob  and  all  of 
them,  and  we're  going  to  be  happy  again,  and 
there  won't  be  any  such  names  called  as  copper- 
head and  rebel  and  abolitionist.  Let  me  show 
you  what  I've  made  for  Tom.  I'd  have  given  it 
to  him  before  he  went  away,  but  it  was  all  so 
sudden.  Oh,  my  ! "  and  for  an  instant  the  girl 
dropped  her  chin  upon  her  hands  and  sat  staring 
into  Mary's  eyes  without  seeing  her.  Then  she 
sprang  up  and  darted  away.  In  a  few  minutes 
she  returned  bearing  with  her  some  mysterious 
piece  of  feminine  handiwork  over  which  the  two 
fell  into  the  sweet  confidences  so  dear  to  their 
age  and  sex. 

Nannie,  light  and  frivolous  as  she  seemed,  had 
a  deep  purpose  in  her  mind.  She  saw  clearly 
that  the  serious,  not  to  say,  morbid  cast,  of 
Mary's  character,  would  drive  her  to  lay  too 
much  importance  upon  her  father's  act  and  so 
perhaps,  let  it  prove  more  injurious  to  her  than 
was  necessary.  Without  Mary's  depth,  she  saw 
more  clearly  than  Bradford  Waters'  daughter 


AS  A  MAN  THINKETH  87 

that  a  little  space  of  madness  was  at  hand,  and 
every  deed  had  to  be  judged  not  by  its  face  alone, 
but  by  its  face  as  affected  by  the  surrounding  at- 
mosphere, just  as  the  human  countenance  shows 
ghastly  in  one  light  and  ruddy  in  another,  with- 
out really  changing.  So  she  strove  to  draw  her 
companion's  thought  away  from  her  sorrows  and 
to  avert  the  dangers  she  anticipated.  She  suc- 
ceeded only  in  part.  After  awhile,  Mary  fell 
into  a  light  sleep,  but  on  the  morrow  she  awoke 
with  a  raging  fever.  The  strain  on  her  nerves 
had  been  too  great  and  she  had  succumbed  to  it. 

At  the  first  intimation  of  danger  to  his  daugh- 
ter, Kannie  had  bid  her  father  hasten  to  notify 
Bradford  Waters. 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  I^athan  Woods,  "  Waters  is 
more  set  in  his  views  than  any  man  I  ever  saw. 
If  he  believes  that  he  had  reason  to  send  her  out 
of  his  house,  not  even  death  itself  could  take  her 
back  there  unless  those  reasons  were  destroyed. 
I  know  Bradford  Waters,  and  he's  a  hard  man." 

But  the  young  woman  insisted,  and,  as  usual, 
had  her  way.  Her  father  went  to  Waters. 
There  was  not  much  tact  or  finesse  about  his  ap- 
proach. He  found  his  neighbor  sitting  down  to 
a  lonely  breakfast,  and  depositing  his  hat  on  the 
floor,  after  an  embarrassed  silence,  he  began. 

"  Kind  of  lonesome,  eh  ?  " 

"  These  are  no  times  for  men  to  be  lonesome. 


88  THE  FANATICS 

The  Lord  makes  every  loyal  man  a  host  in  him- 
self." 

"  That's  good,  and  yet  it  isn't  the  kind  of  host 
that  crowds  on  each  other's  toes  and  cracks  jokes 
to  keep  the  time  a-going." 

"  You're  irreverent,  Nathan,  and  besides,  this 
is  no  time  to  be  cracking  jokes.  The  hour  has 
come  when  the  cracking  of  rifles  is  the  only 
thing." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  be  irreverent,  and  I'm  afraid 
you  don't  understand.  I've  come  for  your  own 
good.  Waters.  The  little  girl  sent  me.  Don't 
you  think  you're  doing  wrong  ?  " 

"  No,  as  the  god  of  battles  is  my  judge,  no  !  " 
Waters'  eyes  were  blazing,  and  he  had  forgotten 
his  breakfast. 

"  Your  daughter  is  at  my  house,  and  she  is 
sick,  very  sick." 

"  I  have  no  daughter." 

"  God  gave  you  one." 

"  He  also  said  that  a  house  divided  against  it- 
self cannot  stand." 

"  What  of  that  ?  " 

"  My  house  is  my  son  Tom  and  myself." 

"  What  of  your  daughter,  Mary  ?  " 

Waters  turned  upon  him  his  sad  bright  eyes, 
sad  in  spite  of  their  hardness. 

"  If  thy  right  hand  offend  thee,  cut  it  off,"  he 
said,  with  a  slashing  gesture. 


AS  A  MAN  THINKETH  89 

"  That's  not  right,"  said  Nathan  Woods.  "  It's 
not  right,  I  say,  to  be  using  the  Scripture  to 
stand  between  you  and  your  daughter." 

"  I  have  no  daughter.  The  daughter  I  had  has 
gone  out  after  other  gods  than  mine." 

The  old  New  England  fanaticism,  the  Puritan- 
ical intolerance,  was  strong  in  the  man. 

"  My  God,"  exclaimed  his  opposer,  "  quit  mu- 
tilating the  Bible  to  bolster  up  your  own  pride. 
Mary's  sick,  she's  sick  enough  to  die,  maybe." 

"  If  she  die  away  from  home,  it  is  God's  will, 
perhaps  his  punishment,"  said  Waters  solemnly. 

"  Is  it  Jepthah  and  his  daughter  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  David  and  Absalom." 

Nathan  Woods  got  up;  he  looked  long  and 
hard  at  his  old  friend.  Then,  taking  his  hat 
from  the  floor,  he  started  for  the  door.  There 
he  paused. 

"  And  the  war  has  done  this,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  Well,  Bradford,  I  say  damn  the  war." 

The  lonely  father  sat  down  again  to  his  break- 
fast, but  the  food  disgusted  him. 

Mary  sick  and  away  from  home.  What  would 
Tom  say?  What  would  Tom  have  done?  But 
then  the  memory  of  the  whole  wrong  she 
had  done  him  and  her  brother  came  back 
upon  the  old  man,  and  he  shut  his  teeth  hard. 
It  was  a  crime.  It  was  treason.  Let  her  go 
her  way  and  die  among  the  people  who  were 


90  THE  FANATICS 

willing  to  condone  her  faults.  He  could  not. 
It  was  not  flesh  and  blood,  but  soul  and  spirit 
that  counted  now.  It  was  not  that  the  South 
had  touched  his  body,  and  that  Mary  had 
sided  with  them.  It  was  that  a  rebellious  sec- 
tion had  touched  not  his  soul,  but  the  soul  of  his 
country,  and  his  daughter  had  bade  them  God- 
speed. This  was  the  unforgivable  thing.  This 
was  the  thing  that  put  the  girl  outside  the 
pale  of  parental  pardon.  So  thinking,  he  rose 
from  the  table  and  went  out  of  the  disordered 
house. 

Dorbury  was  a  town  of  just  the  size  where 
any  one's  business  is  every  one's  else.  So  it  was 
an  impossibility  that  the  breach  between  Mary  and 
her  father  should  long  remain  a  secret.  A  half- 
dozen  neighbors  knew  the  story  an  hour  after 
the  doctor  had  left  Nathan  "Woods'  door,  and  had 
told  it  in  varying  degrees  of  incorrectness. 

One  gossip  said  that  Waters'  daughter  had 
sought  to  elope  with  Robert  Yan  Doren,  had  even 
got  as  far  as  the  railway  station,  when  her  father 
had  found  her  and  brought  her  back.  She  was 
now  imprisoned  at  the  Woods',  with  Nannie  to 
watch  her. 

Another  knew  on  good  authority  that  Mary  had 
denounced  the  Union,  declared  her  intention  of 
doing  all  she  could  to  aid  the  Confederacy,  and  had 
then  fled  from  home  to  escape  from  her  father's 


AS  A  MAN  THINKETH  91 

just  wrath.  Anice  Crowder's  story  of  the  affair 
in  the  sewing-circle  gave  color  to  this  view  of  the 
case. 

Still,  another,  however,  told  how  Robert  Yan 
Doren's  sweetheart,  mad  for  love  of  him,  and 
crazed  at  the  choice  he  had  made,  went  wander- 
ing about  the  streets  until  friendly  hands  took 
her  to  Nannie's  door.  One  man  had  helped  to 
take  her  there. 

So  the  rumors  flew  from  lip  to  lip  like  shuttle- 
cocks and  the  story  grew  with  the  telling  of  it. 

It  would  have  been  strange  then,  if  it  had  not 
reached  the  ears  of  the  Yan  Dorens.  Indeed,  it 
came  to  them  on  the  first  morning.  Stephen 
Yan  Doren  chuckled. 

"  You're  making  a  great  stir  for  one  poor  cop- 
perhead," he  said  to  his  son.  "  You've  made  the 
wolf's  stir  in  the  Waters'  sheepfold.  If  you'll 
only  cause  the  Yankees  as  much  trouble  when 
you  have  a  musket  in  your  hand,  I  shall  have 
reason  to  be  proud  of  my  son." 

Robert  turned  angrily  upon  his  father. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  that  way  about  the 
matter,  father.  I  don't  like  all  this  talk  about 
Mary,  and  I  wish  I  could  stop  it.  If  the  girl  is 
suffering  on  account  of  loyalty  to  me,  God  bless 
her.  It's  as  little  as  my  father  could  do  to  speak 
respectfully  of  her  sacrifice." 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,  Robert,  I  do  not 


92  THE  FANATICS 

laugh  at  the  girl.  It  is  at  her  father  and  his 
folly  that  I  laugh." 

"  My  love  for  his  daughter  makes  the  father 
sacred  to  me." 

"  It  must  be  a  very  strong  love  that  makes 
Bradford  Waters  sacred." 

"My  love  for  Mary  is  deeper  and  stronger 
than  any  political  prejudice  that  you  or  I  might 
have." 

"  Very  well,  Bob,  very  well,  go  your  own  way. 
My  business  is  not  with  your  love,  but  with  your 
politics;  if  the  latter  be  all  right  I  shall  not 
worry  about  the  former." 

Kobert  Van  Doren  spent  little  time  after  hear- 
ing of  Mary's  illness,  but  betook  himself  immedi- 
ately to  her  door.  Nannie  met  him  and  drew 
him  inside. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  began  before  he  could  tell 
his  errand,  "  but  you  cannot  see  her.  She  is  very 
sick  and  excitable.  Oh,  Robert,  isn't  it  awful, 
this  war  and  all  that  it  is  bringing  to  us  ?  " 

"  I  wish  it  were  over.     Is  Mary  delirious  ?  " 

"  At  times,  and  when  she  isn't,  we  could  almost 
wish  she  were ;  she  is  so  piteous." 

"  Her  father  has  been  hard  upon  her." 

"  Yes,  that's  because  he's  delirious  too.  Every 
one  is  mad,  you  and  I  and  all  of  us.  When  shall 
we  come  to  our  senses  ?  " 

"  God  knows.    Will  you  give  Mary  this  ?  "   He 


AS  A  MAN  THINKETH  93 

drew  off  his  glove  and  laid  it  in  Nannie's  hand. 
"  Tell  her  it  is  forbidden  me  to  say  good-bye  to 
her,  but  I  leave  this  as  a  pledge,  and  when  I  may, 
I  shall  come  back  and  redeem  it." 

There  were  tears  on  Nannie'sJace  as  he  turned 
toward  the  door.  With  an  impulsive  movement, 
she  sprang  forward  and  laid  her  hand  on  his 
arm.  "  You  may  kiss  me,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will 
bear  it  to  her,  and  place  it  on  her  lips  as  you 
would  have  done." 

Kobert  paused,  and  bent  over  her  lips  as  he 
might  have  done  over  Mary's,  and  then  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand,  he  was  gone  and  the  door  be- 
hind him  closed.  Nannie  turned  and  went  to 
Mary's  room  where  she  laid  the  glove  on  the 
pillow  beside  the  pale  face  of  the  unconscious 
girl.  Her  brow  was  fevered  and  her  hair  di- 
shevelled, and  every  now  and  then  incoherent 
words  forced  themselves  between  her  parched 
lips. 

"  I  might  have  let  him  see  her  for  a  minute, 
but  it  was  better  not  to.  He  would  only  have 
gone  away  with  the  misery  of  it  in  his  heart." 
Then  Nannie  stooped  and  kissed  her  friend's 
lips.  "  There,  Mary,"  she  said,  "  it's  from  him. 
Oh,  my  dear,  dear  girl,  if  your  father  could  see 
you  now,  I  believe  even  his  heart  would  melt 
towards  you." 

But  Bradford  Waters  was  not  to  see  her  then. 


94  THE  FANATICS 

With  bowed  head  and  slow  steps,  eaten  by  grief, 
anger  and  anxiety,  he  made  his  way  towards  the 
tobacco  warehouse  where  he  spent  a  large  part 
of  the  day  among  his  employees.  The  place  had 
never  seemed  quite  the  same  to  him  since  the 
first  day  Tom  had  been  absent  from  his  desk. 
He  was  thinking  of  him  now  as  he  went  cheer- 
lessly along.  What  a  head  for  business  the  boy 
had.  How  much  more  of  a  success  he  would  be 
than  ever  his  father  had  been.  How  the  men 
loved  him  already.     It  was  no  wonder  that  Mary 

— but  Mary He  checked  his  thoughts  and 

set  his  teeth  hard.  There  was  no  Mary,  no  sister 
any  more.  She  had  broken  the  tie  that  bound 
her  to  Tom  and  him.  He  said  this  to  himself  be- 
cause he  did  not  know  how  women  wrench  and 
tear  their  hearts  to  keep  from  breaking  ties  that 
war  with  each  other. 

He  was  absorbed  in  such  thoughts  when  some 
one  hailed  him  from  a  doorway. 

"  What  news  ?  "  said  a  gentleman  stepping  out 
and  joining  him  in  his  walk. 

"  Ko  news,  except  of  delay,"  said  Waters  in  a 
dissatisfied  tone. 

"  Where  is  the  gallant  First  now  ?  " 

They  were  already  the  "Gallant  First"  al- 
though they  had  not  yet  got  within  powder- 
smelling  distance  of  the  enemy. 

"  The  gallant  First  is  being  delayed  and  played 


AS  A  MAN  THIISTKETH  95 

with  somewhere  between  Columbus  and  Wash- 
ington." 

"  Why  should  that  be  ?  " 

"It  all  comes  of  electing  a  gentleman  gov- 
ernor." 

"  Why  now,  Waters,"  said  Davies,  smilingly. 
"  There  is  surely  no  objection  to  a  governor's 
being  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  There's  some  objection  to  his  being  nothing 
else." 

"  You  remind  me  a  good  deal  of  the  Method- 
ists and  the  devil ;  whatever  bad  happens,  they 
are  never  at  a  loss  to  know  where  to  put  the 
blame.  I  sometimes  think  that  maybe  the  devil 
is  painted  a  little  black,  and  likewise,  maybe, 
Dennison  isn't  to  blame  for  everything  that  goes 
wrong  in  the  handling  of  this  situation." 

Waters  took  this  sally  with  none  too  good  a 
grace.  Davies  was  suspected  of  being  luke- 
warm in  the  Union  cause,  and  some  had  even  ac- 
cused him  of  positive  Southern  sympathies.  He 
was  a  wealthy,  polished,  easy-going  man,  and  his 
defence  of  Governor  Dennison,  whose  acts  every 
one  felt  free  to  blame  at  that  time,  was  more  be- 
cause he  sympathized  with  that  gentleman's 
aristocratic  tastes  and  manners  than  because  he 
wished  delay  to  the  progress  of  the  Union's 
forces. 

"  So  you  think  it's  Dennison  who's  delaying  the 


96  THE  FANATICS 

troops,  do  you  ?  "  he  went  on  in  a  light,  banter- 
ing tone. 

"  I  think  nothing  about  it,  I  only  know  that 
our  boys  went  rushing  away  to  the  state  capital, 
and  under  the  impression  that  Washington  was 
menaced,  were  sent  flying  east  half  equipped  and 
totally  unprepared  for  the  conflict,  and  I  do  know 
that  despite  their  haste,  they  have  not  reached 
their  destination  yet." 

"  For  which,  of  course,  the  devil  is  to  blame  ?  " 

"  Whoever  is  to  blame,  this  is  no  time  for  a 
banqueting,  bowing,  speech-making  governor. 
We  need  a  man  of  action  in  the  chair  now,  if  we 
ever  did.  Look  how  things  are  going  at  Colum- 
bus. Troops  flocking  there,  no  provision  made 
for  them.  Half  of  them  not  knowing  whether 
they  are  to  be  accepted  or  not  and  the  dandy 
who  calls  himself  the  chief  executive  sits  there 
and  writes  letters.  My  God,  what  have  we 
come  to  !  " 

^'  Have  you  ever  thought  that  even  a  governor 
needs  time  to  adjust  himself  to  a  great  crisis  ? 
Is  it  not  true  that  the  authorities  of  the  general 
government  insisted  on  the  regiment  in  which 
your  son's  company  is  placed  going  directly  to 
Washington  ?  " 

"  Then  why  are  they  not  there  instead  of  dally- 
ing about,  heaven  knows  where,  while  a  lot  of 
other  fellows  are  being  quartered  at  the  Colum- 


AS  A  MAN  THINKETH  97 

bus  hotels  at  extortionate  prices  which  the  tax- 
payers must  pay  ?  " 

"  Are  you  measuring  your  patriotism  by  dol- 
lars and  cents  ?  " 

"  I'm  measuring  my  patriotism  by  the  greatest 
gift  that  any  one  could  make  to  his  country,  his 
only  son.     Have  you  an  equal  measure  ?  " 

''  No,  but  I  have  some  confidence  in  my  state 
and  my  country's  ofiicers,  and  that  is  worth  some- 
thing in  a  time  like  this.  Now  don't  get  hot  in 
the  collar.  Waters,  but  you  wait  awhile  and  give 
Dennison  and  the  government  time." 

"Yes,  wait,  wait,  that's  been  the  cry  right 
along.  Wait  until  every  road  this  side  the  capi- 
tal of  the  country  is  blocked  and  from  Maryland 
and  Virginia  the  rebels  march  victorious  into 
Washington.  Don't  talk  to  me  of  waiting, 
Davies,  we  have  waited  too  long  already,  that's 
what's  the  matter." 

Davies  laughed  lightly  as  he  turned  down  the 
street  which  led  to  his  own  ofiice. 

Bradford  Waters'  intemperance  was  a  great 
index  of  the  spirit  of  the  time  as  it  was  mani- 
fested in  Ohio.  Governor  Dennison  was  too  slow 
for  the  radicals  ;  too  swift  for  the  conservatives, 
and  incompetent  in  the  opinion  of  both.  Noth- 
ing could  happen,  except  what  was  good,  nothing 
could  go  wrong  but  that  he  was  blamed  for  it. 
All  the  men  who  volunteered  could  not  be  ac- 


98  THE  FANATICS 

cepted  and  Dennison  was  to  blame.  The  soldiers 
were  delayed  enroute  and  Dennison  was  to 
blame.  Eations  were  scarce  and  prices  high  and 
Dennison  was  to  blame,  and  so  all  the  odium  that 
attaches  to  a  great  war  which  strikes  a  people  un- 
prepared for  it,  fell  upon  the  head  of  the  hapless 
executive. 


CHAPTEE  IX 

A  LETTER  FROM   THE  FRONT 

In  the  days  which  followed  the  separation  be- 
tween Mary  and  himself,  Bradford  Waters  was 
indeed  a  lonely  man.  He  was  harassed  not  only 
by  the  breach  with  the  child  he  loved  and  the 
public  comments  upon  it,  but  torn  with  anxiety 
for  Tom.  He  spent  his  days  and  nights  in  brood- 
ing that  made  him  harder  and  bitterer  as  time 
went  on.  His  fanatical  dislike  for  Stephen  Van 
Doren  grew  because  this  man  and  his  family 
seemed  to  him  the  author  of  all  his  woes.  He 
was  not  only  just  a  copperhead,  now,  with  a  son 
in  the  Confederate  army,  he  stood  as  the  person- 
ification of  the  whole  body  of  rebellion  that  had 
taken  Waters'  son  and  daughter  and  broken  up 
his  home.  He  could  have  no  pride  in  his  soldier 
boy  without  cursing  Van  Doren  for  being  one  of 
those  who  had  driven  him  into  danger.  He 
could  not  grieve  for  the  loss  of  Mary  without 
sending  his  imprecations  flying  in  the  same  di- 
rection.    Always  to  his  distorted  vision,  his  old- 

99 


100  THE  FAISTATICS 

time  enemy  appeared  as  some  relentless  monster 
grinning  in  terrible  glee  at  his  distress. 

Despite  his  moroseness,  however,  there  was  a 
wistful,  almost  plaintive  attitude  in  Waters'  con- 
duct towards  his  acquaintances.  He  hovered  be- 
tween moods  of  grief,  anxiety  and  pride.  But 
always,  at  the  last,  the  innate  hardness  of  his  na- 
ture triumphed.  There  were  times  when  his 
heart  cried  out  for  Mary,  for  some  one  of  his 
blood  to  share  his  grief  with  him.  But  he 
closed  his  lips  and  uttered  no  word  to  bring  her 
back  to  him.  Always  a  simple-living  man,  ac- 
customed to  no  service  save  that  of  his  own  fam- 
ily, he  was  compelled  to  employ  a  servant,  and 
this  galled  him,  not  out  of  penuriousness,  but  be- 
cause he  could  not  bear  an  alien  in  his  home. 
He  felt  her  eyes  upon  him  at  moments  when  it 
seemed  that  the  struggle  in  his  heart  must  be 
written  large  upon  his  face,  and  it  filled  him 
with  dumb,  helpless  anger. 

A  change,  too,  was  taking  place  in  Yan  Dor  en. 
Now  that  he  had  a  son  in  the  field,  he  had  a  new 
feeling  for  his  friend  and  enemy.  Besides  being 
a  partisan,  he  was  a  father  and  the  paternal  in- 
stinct prompted  him  to  change  his  actions  to- 
wards Waters.  Had  the  two  old  men  let  them- 
selves, they  would  have  poured  out  their  fears, 
hopes  and  anxieties  to  each  other,  and  found  re- 
lief and   sympathy.     Both  affectionate  fathers. 


A  LETTEK  FKOM  THE  FEOJSTT     101 

similarly  bereft  of  sons  and  similarly  alone,  they 
might  have  been  a  comfort  to  each  other,  but 
that  their  passions  forbade  their  fraternizing. 
Often  they  met  upon  the  streets  and  Van  Doren 
would  look  at  Waters  with  a  question  in  his  eyes. 
It  would  have  been  such  a  natural  thing  to  say, 
"  Any  news  of  Tom  ? "  and  to  be  asked  in  the 
same  tone,  "What  of  Bob?"  But  Waters 
always  scowled  fiercely  although  he  kept  his 
head  averted.  So  each,  smothering  down  the 
yearning  in  his  heart  for  companionship  and 
sympathy  passed  on  his  way  with  a  curb  bit  on 
his  emotions. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  dispatches  from 
the  front  gave  warning  that  a  sharp,  though 
brief  encounter  had  taken  place  between  the 
rebels  and  a  detachment  of  troops  under  General 
Schenck.  The  news  ran  like  wildfire  through 
Dorbury,  for  it  was  at  first  rumored  and  then 
assured  that  the  First,  to  which  the  home  com- 
pany belonged,  had  been  engaged  and  had  lost 
several  men.  Every  home  out  of  which  a  hus- 
band, son  or  father  had  gone,  waited  with 
breathless  expectancy,  longing,  yet  dreading  to 
hear  more  definite  tidings  from  the  field.  The 
people  about  every  fireside  clustered  closer  to- 
gether with  blanched  faces,  wondering  if  their 
circle  had  been  touched.  This  was  war  indeed, 
and   with  the   first   fear  for  their  loved   ones, 


102  THE  FANATICS 

came  the  first  realization  of  what  it  really 
meant. 

At  first,  Bradford  Waters  tried  hard  to  re- 
strain himself.  He  gripped  his  hands  hard  and 
paced  up  and  down  the  room.  But  finally,  he 
could  stand  it  no  longer.  The  house  had 
grown  close  and  unbearable.  Its  walls  seemed 
to  be  narrowing  in  upon  him  like  the  sides  of  a 
torture  chamber.  He  hurried  out  into  the  street 
and  into  the  telegraph  office.  There  was  no 
further  news.  Then  to  the  office  of  the  one  re- 
maining paper.  Their  bulletin  furnished  nothing 
further.  For  two  hours  he  paced  back  and  forth 
between  these  two  places,  feverish  and  disturbed. 
Yan  Doren  saw  him  pass  back  and  forth  on  his 
anxious  tramp,  and  his  own  heart  interpreted 
the  other's  feelings.  Once,  the  impulse  came  to 
him  to  speak  to  Waters,  and  he  rose  from  the 
window  where  he  had  been  sitting,  and  went  to 
the  door,  but  the  crazed  man  turned  upon  him 
such  a  grey,  haggard  face  and  withal  so  fierce 
and  unfriendly,  that  he  retreated  from  his  good 
intentions,  and  let  him  pass  on  unchallenged. 

The  next  day  the  news  was  better.  The  papers 
said  that  the  casualties  had  been  almost  nothing. 

Waters'  hopes  rose,  and  he  showed  a  more 
cheerful  face  to  those  who  saw  him.  Maybe 
Tom  was  safe,  after  all,  maybe  he  had  been  gal- 
lant in  action,  and   would   be  promoted.     His 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT     103 

heart  throbbed  with  joy  and  pride  as  if  what  he 
wished  were  already  a  fact.  It  is  a  strange 
thing  about  home  people  in  war  time  that  after 
the  first  pang  of  anxiety  is  over,  the  very  next 
thought  is  one  of  ambition.  They  seem  all  to 
see  but  two  contingencies  for  their  loved  ones, 
death  or  promotion.  It  happened  that  there 
was  not  a  single  engagement  of  the  war,  how- 
ever small  or  insignificant,  but  it  gave  some 
home  circle  a  thrill  of  hope  that  one  who  was 
dear  to  them  might  have  moved  up  a  notch  in 
the  notice  and  respect  of  his  country.  It  was 
not  narrowness  nor  was  it  the  lust  for  personal 
advancement.  It  was  rather  the  desire  of  those 
who  give  of  their  best  to  serve  a  beloved  cause 
to  have  them  serve  it  in  the  highest  and  most  re- 
sponsible position  possible. 

Meanwhile,  to  Mary  slowly  recovering  her 
strength  and  balance,  had  come  much  of  the 
anxiety  which  racked  her  father.  With  the  in- 
consistent faith  of  a  woman,  she  said  that  God 
could  not  have  let  her  brother  fall  in  this  first 
fight,  and  she  prayed  that  he  might  be  restored  to 
them  safe.  And  even  before  the  breath  of  her 
declaration  and  prayer  had  cooled  on  her  lips,  she 
wept  as  she  pictured  him  dead  on  the  roadside. 

Later,  it  is  true,  these  people's  hearts  came  to 
be  so  schooled  in  the  terrible  lessons  of  civil  war 
that  they  let  such  light  skirmishes  as  this  one  at 


104  THE  FANATICS 

Vienna  give  them  little  uneasiness.     But  then, 
they  did  not  know. 

Bradford  Waters'  great  joy  came  to  him  two 
days  after  the  papers  had  lightened  his  care. 
There  was  a  list  of  the  wounded  and  killed,  and 
Tom's  name  was  not  among  them.  Then  came 
his  letter. 

"  Dear  father,"  it  ran,  "  I  suppose  you've  been 
in  horrible  suspense  about  me,  and  a  good  deal 
of  it  is  my  fault.  But  when  a  fellow  is  learning 
entirely  new  things,  among  them  how  to  write 
without  any  sort  of  writing  materials  under  the 
sun,  it  isn't  easy,  is  it  ?  Then,  too,  I've  been 
trying  to  learn  to  be  a  soldier.  It's  awfully  dif- 
ferent, this  being  a  militiaman  and  a  soldier. 
In  the  first  place,  a  militiaman  may  curse  his 
governor.  A  soldier  must  not.  It's  been  hard 
refraining,  but  I  haven't  cursed  Dennison  as  I 
wanted  to.  Some  of  the  fellows  say  he's  all 
right,  but  we've  been  delayed  on  the  way  here 
by  first  one  thing  and  then  another  until  the  pa- 
tience of  all  of  us  is  worn  out.  If  it  isn't  Gov- 
ernor Dennison's  fault,  whose  is  it  ?  I  wish 
you'd  find  out.  We  fellows  don't  know,  and 
can't  find  out  anything.  The  generals  just  take 
us  wherever  they  please  and  never  consult  us 
about  anything.     But  I'm  used  to  that  now. 

"  Of  course,  you've  heard  about  the  trouble  at 
Vienna,  and  I  was  afraid  you'd  be  considerably 
worried.  It  wasn't  anything  much.  Only  it 
was  different  from  a  muster  day.  Some  rebels 
fired  on  our  train  unexpectedly,  but  we  tumbled 


A  LETTEK  FROM  THE  FEONT     105 

out  helter-skelter  and  fired  back  at  them,  and  so 
they  let  us  alone.  It  didn't  seem  quite  fair  to 
jump  on  a  fellow  when  he  wasn't  looking,  but  I 
guess  this  is  war. 

"  There  isn't  a  thing  to  do  about  Washington 
these  days.  It's  as  safe  as  a  meeting-house.  There 
are  some  New  York  troops  here  that  I  have  got 
acquainted  with,  but  we  don't  any  of  us  do  any- 
thing but  look  pretty.  Some  of  the  fellows  are 
already  looking  forward  to  the  mustering  out 
day.  But  mustered  out  or  not,  I'm  going  to 
hang  around  here,  for  there's  no  telling  when 
things  are  going  wrong,  and  for  my  part,  I  ex- 
pect more  trouble.  A  set  of  fellows  who  will 
fire  on  their  own  flag  as  they  did  at  Sumter  are 
perfectly  capable  of  lying  low  until  they  quiet 
our  suspicions  and  then  raising  the  very  dickens. 

"  Give  Mary  my  love,  and  tell  her  she  ought 
to  see  Washington  and  all  the  pretty  girls  here 
that  cheer  us  as  we  go  along  the  streets.  (Tell 
her  to  read  this  part  of  the  letter  to  Nannie. 
I'm  going  to  write  her  anyway  in  a  day  or  two, 
but  now  it's  all  go,  go,  go,  learn,  learn,  learn.) 
Take  care  of  yourself,  father,  or  rather  let  Mary 
take  care  of  you,  for  you  would  never  think  of 
it.     I'll  write  you  again  when  I  get  a  chance. 

"  Your  son, 
"  Tom." 

Bradford  Waters  could  have  wept  for  joy  over 
his  son's  letter,  but  that  he  felt  weeping  to  be 
unworthy  of  a  soldier's  father.  The  battle  of 
Yienna  had  been  fought  and  his  son  had  come 
out  safe.     He  thought  of  it  as  a  Thermopylae 


106  THE  FANATICS 

when  it  was  only  a  petty  skirmish.  A  few 
rebels  fired  at  a  few  Unionists,  who  lined  them- 
selves up  against  their  cars  and  returned  the  fire. 
This  was  all,  but  he  preferred  to  think  of  his  son 
as  one  of  a  band  of  heroes  who  at  great  odds  had 
repelled  the  assailants  of  their  country's  flag,  and 
held  the  day  against  armed  treason. 

One  thing  grieved  him  greatly,  the  refer- 
ence to  Mary.  He  could  not  tell  her  nor 
talk  it  over  with  her.  She  take  care  of  him ! 
What  would  her  brother  think  if  he  knew  how 
they  were  living,  and  he  was  going  to  write  to 
[N^annie  ?  Would  she  not  tell  him  all,  and  what 
encouragement  would  this  be  to  the  boy  in  the 
field  when  he  knew  how  matters  were  going  at 
home?  Bradford  Waters'  hand  trembled  and 
the  letter  burned  in  his  fingers. 

Notwithstanding  his  perplexity,  when  Waters 
appeared  on  the  streets  that  day,  Stephen  Yan 
Doren  seeing  him,  did  not  need  to  inquire  to 
know  that  the  Unionist  had  received  a  welcome 
letter  from  his  son,  and  secretly,  he  rejoiced  at 
it.  Knowing  as  he  did,  that  the  time  would  come 
when  anxiety  for  his  own  boy  would  tear  at  his 
heart,  he  could  not  begrudge  the  other  man  his 
joy.  He  was  pleased,  too,  because  as  he  passed 
Waters  and  looked  into  his  beaming  face,  there 
seemed  almost  an  inclination  on  his  part  to  stop 
and  speak. 


A  LETTEE  FKOM  THE  FEONT     107 

Indeed,  the  old  Unionist  did  want  to  stop  and 
say,  "  Stephen,  I've  heard  from  Tom,  and  he's  all 
right."  He  did  not,  and  the  repression  only 
made  him  long  the  more  for  Mary.  He  wanted 
her  to  see  his  letter,  to  know  that  her  brother 
was  being  cheered  by  the  women  of  Washington, 
and  to  feel  what  he  felt.  But  would  she  feel  so  ? 
Had  not  her  heart  already  gone  too  strongly  to 
the  other  side?  The  question  came  again  to 
him,  and  he  hardened  again  in  face  of  it. 

He  would  not  tell  her  nor  send  the  letter  to 
her.  She  was  a  traitor.  But  he  would  let  her 
know  that  he  had  received  it.  So  that  afternoon, 
he  talked  much  of  his  letter  in  the  places  where 
men  congregate,  and  told  what  Tom  had  said, 
and  Mary  heard  of  it  from  others  and  burned 
with  eagerness. 

That  night,  as  soon  as  darkness  had  fallen, 
eluding  Nannie's  vigilance,  she  crept  out  of  the 
house.  She  made  her  way  to  her  own  home,  and 
back  and  forth  before  the  door,  she  walked  and 
kept  vigil.  Maybe  her  father  would  see  her  and 
come  out  and  tell  her  more  of  Tom.  Maybe  he 
would  understand  and  forgive  her  and  she  could 
go  back  to  him  again.  But  she  wished  in  vain, 
and  after  a  time,  her  heart  unsatisfied,  she  went 
back  to  Nannie's,  and  silently  let  herself  in. 

It  was  after  midnight,  when  Waters  crept  out 
of  his  house,  and  with  feverish  steps  made  his 


108  THE  FANATICS 

way  to  the  Woods'  door.  For  a  long  time  he 
walked  up  and  down  before  the  place  even  as 
Mary  had  done,  and  then,  as  if  struck  with  a 
sudden  determination,  he  opened  the  gate  and 
going  to  the  door,  slipped  the  letter  under  it. 
Then  he  turned  away  home,  feeling  lighter  and 
better  because  he  had  shared  his  joy  with  his 
daughter. 


CHAPTEE  X 

SORROW  MAY  LAST    FOR  A  NIGHT 

It  was  of  a  piece  with  the  proverbial  blindness 
of  man  that  Nathan  Woods  should  have  stepped 
over  the  letter  as  he  went  out  in  the  morning 
without  taking  note  of  it,  just  as  it  was  natural 
to  the  keen  sight  of  woman  that  Nannie  should 
see  it  the  first  thing  as  she  came  down  in  the 
morning.  She  ran  swiftly  towards  it  and  cast  her 
eye  over  the  address.  At  first  she  gasped,  then 
she  awoke  the  echoes  with  a  joyous  shriek  and 
went  flying  up  to  Mary's  room.  Mary  sat  up  in 
bed  in  dumb  amazement  which  was  only  in- 
creased when  the  enthusiastic  girl  threw  her  arms 
about  her  and  began  sobbing  and  laughing  alter- 
nately. 

"  Oh,  Mary,"  she  cried,  "  it's  come,  it's  come, 
and  he's  all  right." 

"What  is  it,  Nannie?  What's  come,  and 
who's  all  right?" 

"  Your  father's  been  here,  oh  !  " 

"  My  father  ?    When  ?    What  did  he  say  ?  " 

109 


110  THE  FANATICS 

"  Kothing,  oh,  I  didn't  see  him,  he  didn't  say 
anything." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Nannie.  You  say 
my  father  didn't  say  anything  at  all  ?  " 

"  Why,  how  could  he  ?  He  came  at  night,  and 
he  didn't  say  anything  because  he  couldn't,  you 
know.  We  were  all  asleep,  but  he  left  this." 
She  broke  off  her  violent  demonstrations  long 
enough  to  thrust  the  letter  into  Mary's  hand,  then 
she  immediately  resumed  them  with  such  a  de- 
gree of  fervor  that  her  friend  found  it  impossible 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  missive  she  held  in  her 
hand.  Gently,  at  last,  she  put  her  hand  aside, 
and  then  trembling  vrith  anticipation,  glanced  at 
the  letter.     Her  face  fell. 

"  But  this  is  not  addressed  to  me,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  you  great  goose,  don't  you  see,  that  it's  to 
your  father  and  from  Tom  and  that  he  wanted 
you  to  know  ?  Else  why  should  he  have  slipped 
it  under  the  door  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  he  did  it,  really  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  he  did,  who  else  ?  He  couldn't 
lose  it  crawling  into  our  hallway,  and  that's  the 
only  other  way  it  could  have  got  there." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  read  it  ?  "  mused  Mary 
lingering  the  envelope  eagerly,  but  nervously. 

"  Mary  Waters !  "  exclaimed  Nannie,  "  if  you 
don't  read  that  letter  this  instant,  I'll  take  it 
from  you  and  read  it  myself." 


SOKEOW  MAY  LAST  A  NIGHT     111 

"  That's  right,  do,  Nannie,  you're  braver  than 
I  am,"  and  Mary  proffered  the  letter.  But 
Nannie  sprang  back  with  sudden  timidity. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  she  said.  "  It's  for  you,  but  if 
it  were  my  brother's  letter,  I'd  have  read  it  long 
before  now." 

"  Well,  I'll  read  it,  if  you'll  stay  and  hear  it," 
and  she  took  the  penciled  sheets  out  and  began 
the  perusal  of  the  words  which  had  brought  so 
much  joy  to  her  father's  heart.  As  she  read,  the 
color  came  back  to  her  faded  cheeks  and  the 
light  to  her  eyes.  Her  bosom  heaved  with  pleas- 
ure and  pride.  Nannie  was  no  less  delighted. 
As  the  reading  went  on,  she  continued  to  give 
Mary  little  encouraging  hugs,  and  she  was  radiant. 

Then  came  the  passage  about  the  girls. 

"  Humph,"  said  Nannie,  "  is  that  all  a  soldier 
has  to  write  about?  I  should  think  he'd  be 
thinking  more  about  the  safety  of  his  country 
than  about  the  girls  he  sees." 

"  Oh,  you  know  he's  only  funning,  Nannie, 
and  then  he  says  Washington's  as  safe  as  a  meet- 
ing-house." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  I  believe  the  rebels  are 
waiting  to  swoop  down  on  the  city  at  any  time 
and  capture  all  our  state  papers,  and  archives 
and  things,  wherever  they  keep  them,  while  our 
soldiers  go  around  looking  pretty  for  the  girls  to 
cheer.     Humph ! " 


112  THE  FANATICS 

Mary  kissed  her  and  laughed,  and  the  rest  of 
the  reading  proceeded  without  demonstrations 
from  Tom's  sweetheart.  At  its  close,  she  made 
no  comment  whatever,  but  sat  upon  the  bed 
swinging  her  feet  with  pronounced  indifference. 

"Aren't  j^ou  glad  to  hear  from  him?"  said 
Mary  merrily,  "  and  to  find  him  in  such  good 
spirits  ?  Dear  old  Tom.  And  wasn't  it  good  of 
father  to  bring  his  letter  to  me  ?  Didn't  I  tell 
you,  I^annie,  that  my  father  didn't  mean  half  he 
said?" 

"  No  you  didn't,  Mary  Waters.  You  thought 
the  end  of  everything  had  come,  even  after  I 
tried  to  convince  you  that  it  hadn't,  and  as  for 
being  glad,  to  be  sure,  I'm  glad  you've  heard 
from  your  brother.  Any  one  with  relatives  in 
the  field  must  be  very  anxious." 

"  But  you  know,  he  said  he  was  going  to  write 
to  you,  Nannie." 

"  It's  very  kind  in  him ;  I  wonder  he  can  take 
time  from  his  Washington  girls  to  write." 

Then  Mary  laughed.  "  It  can't  be  that  you 
are  jealous,  Nannie,  girl,"  she  said  affectionately 
taking  her  friend  in  her  arms.  "  You  know  Tom 
is  teasing  you." 

"  I  jealous  !  "  oh  how  the  little  woman  sniffed  ! 
"  I  can  assure  you  that  I'm  not  jealous,  but  I 
have  the  interests  of  my  country  at  heart,  and  I 
cannot  but  feel  sorry  to  see  our  soldiers  giving 


SOKROW  MAY  LAST  A  NIGHT     113 

themselves  up  to  trivial  amusements  when  she  is 
in  danger  of — oh,  just  the  most  awful  things. 
I'm  not  jealous,  oh,  no,  but  I'm  ashamed  of  Tom." 

"  Why,  Kannie,  how  can  you  ? "  said  Mary 
reddening. 

"  Well,  I  am,  and  I  mean  it,  and  it's  awful, 
that's  what  it  is." 

"I'm  sorry  my  brother  has  offended  you." 

"  Oh,  Mary,"  Nannie  was  always  inarticulate 
in  her  emotion,  but  Mary  understood  the  burst 
of  tears  as  Nannie  threw  herself  on  her  bosom, 
and  forgave  her  disparagement  of  Tom. 

"  What  a  little  silly  you  are.  You  know  he 
was  only  joking." 

"  Joking  !  Such  a  letter  isn't  any  joke.  It's 
brutal,  that's  what  it  is.  Pretty  girls  cheering 
him !  I  hate  those  Washington  girls.  I  just 
know  they're  bold,  brazen  things,  and  they 
didn't  look  at  another  man  but  Tom." 

"  Never  you  mind,  you'll  have  a  letter  soon." 

"  I  don't  want  it." 

"  All  right.  Maybe  it  won't  come.  The  mails 
are  very  irregular  now." 

"  Mary  Waters,  how  can  you  say  such  a  mean 
thing?" 

"I  didn't  think  you'd  mind  it." 

"  But  I  do  mind  it.  You  know  the  mails  are 
regular  here.  It's  not  the  mails  that  I'm  worry- 
ing about." 


114  THE  FAISTATICS 

She  must  lia\^e  worried  about  something 
though,  for  when  her  father  came  in  with  the 
morning  paper,  she  was  eager  to  know  if  he 
had  been  to  the  post  office,  and  on  receiving  a 
negative  answer,  was  downcast  for  fully  five 
minutes. 

"  The  mail  wouldn't  have  been  sorted  yet,  any- 
how," said  her  father,  "  and  Banes's  boy's  going 
to  bring  it  when  he  goes  for  theirs." 

"  The  mail  is  very  slow  in  Dorbury,  isn't  it  ?  " 
Nannie  proffered  a  little  later,  and  was  angry 
because  Mary  laughed  again. 

The  promise  of  a  letter  was  at  least  two  days 
away,  but  Nannie  ate  very  little  that  morning. 
She  fastened  her  eyes  upon  the  window  which 
commanded  the  walk  up  which  the  Banes  boy 
must  come.  Finally,  when  he  hove  in  sight,  she 
sprang  away  from  the  table  with  a  cry,  of  "  Oh, 
there  he  is !  "  and  every  one  knew  why  her  appe- 
tite had  lapsed. 

Fate  was  kind.  It  was  kind  two  days  ahead 
of  promise,  a  strange  thing,  but  this  was  her  off 
day.  There  was  a  letter,  and  it  was  for  Nannie 
and  from  Tom.  She  came  directly  to  the  table 
with  it,  because  she  didn't  know  any  better,  and 
there  were  no  daws  about  to  peck  at  an  exposed 
heart.  She  read  and  smiled  and  bridled  and 
blushed  while  the  rest  of  the  assembly  neglected 
their  eggs. 


SOKROW  MAY  LAST  A  KIGHT     115 

"  Oh,  give  us  some  of  it,"  said  her  father  ban- 
teringly. 

"I  won't,"  she  answered,  and  it  was  a  good 
thing  Tom  couldn't  see  her  smile  and  blush,  for  if 
he  had  been  any  sort  of  man,  he  would  have  de- 
serted at  once. 

"Isn't  there  anything  he  says  that  we  may 
hear?" 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  alone,"  she  answered,  and — 
well,  it's  hard  to  tell,  but  she  giggled. 

"What  a  softy  he  must  be,"  said  her  little 
brother,  "just  writing  about  no-account  things, 
when  you'd  think  he'd  be  saying  something  about 
fighting.  'Tain't  polite  to  read  letters  before 
folks  anyhow." 

"You  hush  up,  Eeuben,"  said  ITannie  indig- 
nantly, "don't  you  suppose  a  soldier  can  talk 
about  anything  but  the  horrors  of  war  ?  " 

"I  knew  it  was  from  Tom,"  said  Reuben 
jeeringly. 

"Keep  quiet,  Reuben,"  said  his  father,  "no 
telling  when  you'll  be  putting  on  fresh  ties  every 
night,  an'  tryin'  to  find  out  an  excuse  to  be  out 
to  a  '  literary  '  or  a  singing  school." 

Reuben  grew  red  and  was  silent.  His  particu- 
lar tone  of  red  was  what  is  denominated  Turkey, 
and  it  was  relieved  by  freckles. 

"  Well,  I'll  just  read  you  a  little  of  it,"  said 
Nannie  finally.    "  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you  what 


116  THE  FAl^ATICS 

he  calls  me  in  the  beginning.  That's  none  of 
their  business,  is  it,  Mary  ? "  and  she  ran  over 
and  kissed  Tom's  sister  for  Tom's  sake.  Then 
she  looked  at  the  letter  again. 

"  Well,  he  says,  *  Dear  little  — '  no  I'm  going 
to  leave  that  out.  He  sends  his  love  to  you, 
papa,  but  of  course,  that's  at  the  last." 

"  Would  it  hurt  you  to  be  consecutive  ?  "  asked 
IS^athan  Woods  drily. 

"Oh,  now,  don't  tease,  just  listen.  He  says, 
oh,  Mary,  he  doesn't  say  another  word  about 
those  Washington  girls.  It  was  only  a  joke, 
don't  you  think  it  was  ?  I  knew  Tom  couldn't 
be  thinking  very  seriously  just  of  girls  when 
there  was  something  very,  very  important  to  do. 
You  know  I  told  you  so,  Mary." 

"  No,"  said  Mary  tantalizingly,  "  I  don't  think 
that  you  did  tell  me  just  that." 

"And  of  course,"  said  her  father,  "you  may 
not  know  it  isn't,  but  this  is  not,  I  maintain,  this 
is  not  hearing  the  letter." 

"  Oh,  well,  he  says  he's  in  Washington.  How 
perfectly  charming  it  must  be  in  Washington.  I 
know  that  must  be  a  great  town  with  the  govern- 
ment and  senators  and  such  things  about  you. 
Dear,  how  I  should  like  to  be  there,  and  oh, 
Mary,  don't  you  remember  about  the  Potomac  in 
the  geography,  just  think,  Tom's  seen  the 
Potomac  I " 


SOEEOW  MAY  LAST  A  NIGHT     117 

"  I  know  about  the  Potomac,"  said  Eeuben. 

"That's  not  the  letter  yet,"  was  her  father's 
comment. 

"Well,  if  you'd  only  stop,  father,  I'd  get  to 
it,"  said  Nannie. 

"  We  are  dumb." 

"  Oh,  papa,  now,  please  don't  joke,  it's  really 
very,  very  serious." 

"  Has  one  among  them  been  taken  ?  " 

"  That's  just  it,  that's  just  it.  The  rebels  tried 
to  take  them,  and  they  didn't,  and  Tom — Tom — 
I  think  he  ought  to  be  promoted  for  it.  It's 
wonderful." 

"  What  did  Tom  do  ?    Save  his  whole  brigade  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  he  did  that,  but  he 
says  that  he  shot  and  shot,  and  that  the  bullets 
spit  up  against  the  car  behind  him.     Think  of  it !  " 

"  It  would  have  been  a  good  deal  worse  if  they 
had  spit  up  against  him,"  said  Woods.  He  had 
been  in  the  Mexican  war  and  unfortunately  had 
lost  his  romance.  "Now,  daughter,  for  the 
letter." 

"  All  right,  you  won't  mind  omissions,  will 
you  ?  " 

"  No,  if  you'll  only  omit  your  pauses  and  ex- 
clamations." 

"  '  We  are  here,  at  last  at  the  capital,  and  I  tell 
you,  it's  a  great  place.  I  don't  wonder  in  the 
least  that  men  want  to  be  congressmen  when 


118  THE  FANATICS 

they  can  live  in  a  town  like  this.  Why,  I'd  be 
willing  to  take  all  the  cares  of  the  government 
on  my  shoulders  just  to  live  in  a  town  like  this. 
But  you  know,  the  voters  have  never  pressed 
upon  my  shoulders  the  affairs  of  state,  and  so  my 
willingness  to  be  unselfish  goes  for  nothing ! ' 
ISTow  isn't  that  bright  of  Tom  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Nannie,  for  heaven's  sake,  go  on.'* 
Nathan  "Woods  was  both  short  and  impatient. 
"  What  we  want  is  news,  news  about  the  troops 
and  their  condition  there." 

"  I'm  afraid,  papa,"  said  Nannie  ruefully, "  that 
there  isn't  much  news.  But  never  mind,  listen. 
*  I  got  to  see  Lincoln  the  other  day,  and  I  don't 
think  much  of  him.  He's  a  big  raw-boned  fellow 
with  a  long  face  and  an  awfully  serious  look. 
But  for  any  kind  of  polish  I'll  bet  old  Dennison 
could  give  him  a  good  many  lessons,  although  I 

don't  think  much  of  Dennison.     My  own ' 

Oh,  no,  there's  where  I've  got  to  make  an  omis- 
sion, but  he  goes  on  to  say,  '  People  are  saying 
that  the  rebellion  is  going  to  be  a  good  deal 
bigger  thing  than  we  think,  and  that  three 
months'  service  is  hardly  going  to  begin  the 
fighting,  others  say  different.  Well,  I  don't 
care.  I'm  in  it  to  stay,  and  you  needn't  expect 
to  see  me  until  we've  licked  the  boots  off  these 
fellows.  Do  you  know  what  they  say  ?  They 
boast  that  one  Southerner  can  lick  five  Yankees. 


SOEROW  MAY  LAST  A  NIGHT     119 

Well,  I'd  like  to  see  them  try  it.'  Oh,  isn't  that 
just  like  Tom?  He  always  was  in  for  experi- 
ments." 

"  Go  on,  Nannie,  and  omit  comment." 

"  *  But  as  old  man  Wilson  used  to  say  in  geom- 
etry class,  if  they  proceed  upon  this  hypothesis, 
they  will  be  wrong.'  Oh,  Mary,  don't  you  re- 
member old  Mr.  Wilson,  and  how  often  Tom  used 
to  tell  us  about  his  funny  expressions.  How 
awfully  clever  of  him  to  think  of  it  now.  But 
I  know  you're  waiting  to  hear  the  rest.  Oh,  I 
can't  read  this,  papa,  not  a  bit  of  it.  Nor  the 
rest,  oh,  I  wouldn't  read  that  for  anything.  Tom 
is  so  enthusiastic.  You  know  how  he  is.  That's 
just  what  is  going  to  make  a  good  soldier  out  of 
him.  He  says,  *  I've  seen  General  Schenck,  and 
he's  just  what  you  would  expect  from  the  Schenck 
family.  It  seems  as  if  those  people  kept  them- 
selves busy  making  decent  men.  The  boys  all 
like  him,  although  they  have  not  got  generally 
trained  into  liking  generals  yet.  Say,  Nannie  — ' 
and  that's  all,"  said  the  young  girl  with  a  guilty 
blush. 

"  How  abruptly  your  brother  ends  his  letters," 
said  Nathan  Woods,  turning  to  Mary  with  a 
quizzical  smile.  "  It  may  be  striking,  but  it's  not 
a  good  literary  style." 

"  You  must  always  consider  the  collaborator, 
Mr.  Woods,"  said  Mary. 


120  THE  FANATICS 

"In  this  case,  I'm  not  sure  that  it  has  been 
collaboration.  It  may  have  been  interpretation, 
or  even,  heaven  help  us,  expurgation." 

"Papa,"  said  Nannie  with  a  very  red  face, 
then  she  gathered  up  the  loose  sheets  of  her  letter 
and  fled  from  the  table. 

"  Mary,"  said  Nathan  Woods,  "  what  has  hap- 
pened this  morning  has  made  me  very  happy, 
but  don't  count  too  much  upon  it.  No  man  re- 
spects your  father  more  than  I  do.  But  the 
oyster  opens  his  shell  for  a  little  and  then  shuts 
it  as  tight  as  ever.  So  I  would  advise  you  to 
stay  with  us  a  while  longer.  Had  he  wanted  you 
at  home,  now  this  is  plain,  he  would  have  come 
to  you  openly ;  but  in  putting  the  letter  under 
the  door,  he  only  made  a  sacrifice  on  account  of 
his  love  for  Tom.     Don't  cry,  little  girl." 

"No,  I'm  going  to  be  brave,  for  I  am  glad 
even  of  this  kindness  from  him — but " 

"  Aren't  we  treating  you  pretty  well  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  Mr.  Woods,  you  know,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  do  understand  how  you  feel 
about  it,  but  just  keep  on  waitin',  your  time'll 


CHAPTER  XI 

AT   HOME 

With  the  incidents  that  immediately  succeeded 
the  skirmish  at  Vienna,  this  story  has  little  to  do. 
Notwithstanding  the  enlistment  of  only  three- 
months-men,  the  country  had  begun  to  settle 
down  to  the  realization  of  war,  not  insurrection, 
not  only  rebellion  any  longer,  but  war,  stern,  im- 
placable, and  perhaps  to  last  longer  than  had  at 
first  been  expected.  As  the  days  passed,  there 
was  talk  of  reorganization.  The  first  was  not 
behindhand  in  the  matter,  and  by  the  August 
following  work  among  the  men  had  begun. 

On  the  day  that  the  men  came  home,  Dorbury, 
complacent  because  no  casualty  had  as  yet  at- 
tacked her  ranks,  was  out  in  full  force  to  meet 
them.  They,  too,  recognized  the  state  of  war, 
but  as  yet,  it  was  only  a  passive  condition,  and 
when  they  saw  their  unbroken  lines  come  back, 
three  months'  veterans,  their  pride  and  joy  knew 
no  bounds.  That  many  of  their  men  would  re- 
turn to  the  field,  would  go  back  to  soldiers'  deaths 
and  soldiers'  graves,  did  not  disturb  them  then. 

121 


122  THE  FANATICS 

Sufficient  into  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  So 
they  put  away  all  thought  of  further  disaster, 
and  revelled  only  in  the  present. 

Among  those  who  came  back,  proud  and 
happy,  none  was  more  noticeable  than  *'  Kigger 
Ed."  The  sight  of  camps,  the  hurr}^  of  men  and 
the  press  of  a  real  responsibility  had  evoked  a 
subtle  change  in  the  negro,  and  though  his  black 
face  showed  its  accustomed  grins,  and  he  an- 
swered with  humor  the  sallies  made  at  him,  he 
capered  no  more  in  the  public  square  for  the 
delectation  of  the  crowd  that  despised  him.  He 
walked  with  a  more  stately  step  and  the  people 
greeted  him  in  more  serious  tones,  as  if  his  asso- 
ciation with  their  soldiers,  light  though  it  had 
been,  had  brought  him  nearer  to  the  manhood 
which  they  still  refused  to  recognize  in  him. 

Perhaps  the  least  joyous  of  them  all  was 
Walter  Stewart,  who  had  given  up  his  family  for 
a  principle.  While  the  other  boys  returned  to 
eager  relatives,  he  came  home  to  no  waiting 
mother's  arms,  and  no  sweetheart  was  there  to 
greet  him  with  love  and  pride  in  her  eyes. 
There  were  friends,  of  course,  who  gave  him 
hearty  hand-clasps.  But  what  were  friends  com- 
pared with  one's  own  family  ? 

His  mood  was  not  improved  when  less  than 
two  days  after  the  return  there  came  a  telegram 
calling  him  to  the  bedside  of  his  dying  father. 


AT  HOME  123 

It  was  a  great  blow  to  the  young  fellow,  and 
coming  as  it  did,  seemingly  as  a  reproof  of  his 
career,  it  may  be  forgiven  him,  if  in  his  grief,  his 
heart  grew  lukewarm  towards  the  cause  he  had 
espoused.  As  soon  as  he  was  able,  he  hastened 
away  to  Virginia  and  his  father's  bedside,  torn 
with  conflicting  emotions  of  remorse,  love  and 
sorrow. 

On  an  open  space  topping  a  hill  near  Dorbury, 
the  white  tents  of  the  reorganizing  regiment  had 
begun  to  settle  like  a  flock  of  gulls  on  a  green 
sea.  Most  of  the  men  who  had  been  out  were 
going  back  again,  and  the  town  took  on  a 
military  appearance.  It  came  to  be  now  that 
the  girl  who  had  not  a  military  lover  or  relative 
was  one  to  be  pitied,  and  the  one  who  had,  stood 
up  with  complacent  Phariseeism  and  thanked 
her  Creator  that  she  was  not  as  other  maidens 
were. 

It  was  now  that  the  sewing-circle  exerted  itself 
to  the  utmost,  both  in  their  natural  province  and 
in  entertainment  for  the  soldiers.  Everything 
now,  had  the  military  prefix  to  it.  There  were 
soldiers'  balls,  soldiers'  teas,  soldiers'  dinners  and 
soldiers'  concerts.  Indeed,  the  sentiment  bade 
fair  to  run  to  a  foolish  craze,  and  those  who  felt 
most  deeply  and  looked  forward  with  fear  to 
what  the  days  might  bring  forth,  beheld  this  tend- 
ency deprecatingly. 


124  THE  FANATICS 

Many  of  the  volunteers,  from  being  decent, 
sensible  fellows,  had  developed  into  conceited 
prigs.  The  pride  of  their  families  and  the  adu- 
lation of  indiscreet  women  and  none-two-well 
balanced  men,  combined  to  turn  their  thoughts 
more  upon  the  picturesqueness  of  their  own  per- 
sonalities than  upon  the  seriousness  of  what  was 
yet  to  be  done.  They  were  blinded  by  the  glare 
of  possible  heroism,  and  sometimes  lost  sight  of 
the  main  thing  for  which  they  had  banded  them- 
selves together.  It  would  be  entirely  false  to  say 
that  at  their  first  realization  of  what  they  had 
gone  into  they  did  not  rise  to  all  that  was  ex- 
pected of  them.  But  such  was  for  a  time  the 
prevailing  spirit,  and  for  a  while  it  called  forth 
the  sneers  of  old  men  who  had  not  forgotten  1812 
and  1846,  at  these  three  months'  soldiers. 

There  were  others,  too,  who  smiled  at  the  be- 
havior of  the  young  soldiers  with  less  generous 
thoughts.  Among  them,  Stephen  Yan  Doren, 
who  watched  from  behind  closed  blinds  their 
comings  and  goings. 

"  Do  they  expect  to  whip  the  South,  which  is 
all  fire  and  passion,  with  their  stripling  dandies, 
who  go  about  the  streets  posing  for  a  child's 
wonder  and  a  woman's  glance  ?  Bah,  the  men 
who  have  gone  into  the  field  from  the  states  of 
rebellion,  have  gone  to  fight  for  a  principle,  not 
to  wear  a  uniform.     They  are  all  earnestness  and 


AT  HOME  125 

self-sacrifice,  and  that's  what's  going  to  take  the 
South  to  victory." 

His  old  housekeeper,  who  was  alone  with  him 
on  the  place,  heard  with  admiration  and  belief, 
for  she  shared  her  master's  opinion  of  the  relative 
worth  of  the  two  sections  of  the  country.  Neither 
one  of  them  knew  that  the  young  men  of  the 
South  were  taking  their  valets  into  the  service 
with  them ;  entering  it  as  gallants  with  the  tra- 
ditionary ideas  of  the  day,  and  leaving  college 
for  the  field,  because  they  believed  it  would  be  a 
famous  lark. 

It  was  perfectly  true  of  both  sections  that 
neither  looked  upon  the  contest  at  first  with  a 
great  amount  of  seriousness.  But  it  is  equally 
true  that  the  fact  might  have  been  forgiven 
the  youth  of  a  country  whose  sons  hitherto 
had  made  a  common  cause  against  a  general 
enemy. 

Unlike  Yan  Doren,  who  stayed  between  walls 
and  chuckled  at  the  coming  discomfiture  of  the 
Union  arms,  Bradford  Waters  was  much  upon 
the  streets,  and  at  Camp  Corwin,  as  if  the  sight 
of  these  blue-coated  defenders  of  the  flag  gave 
him  courage  and  hope.  He  had  a  good  word 
for  every  soldier  he  met,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  as 
they  told  him  of  Tom,  and  the  few  experiences 
they  had  had  together. 

Tom,  true  to  his  promise,  had  not  returned 


126  THE  FANATICS 

with  the  rest,  but  had  preferred  to  remain  near 
the  seat  of  war,  and  to  join  his  regiment  after  its 
reorganization.  The  old  man  took  pride,  even,  in 
this  fact.  To  him,  it  was  as  if  Tom  were  sta3ang 
on  the  field  where  he  could  guard  the  safety  of 
his  country  in  an  hour  of  laxity  on  the  part  of 
his  comrades.  He  longed  to  see  him,  of  course, 
but  there  was  joy  in  the  pain  he  felt  at  making  a 
sacrifice  of  his  own  desires.  He  had  not  loaned 
his  son  to  the  cause.  He  had  given  him  freely 
and  fully. 

The  difference  in  attitude,  between  Yan  Doren 
and  Waters,  was  the  difference  between  regard 
for  traditions  and  a  personal  faith.  The  South- 
erner said,  "  What  my  people  have  done,"  the 
Yankee,  "  What  a  man  must  do."  Said  one, 
"  Coming  from  the  stock  he  does,  Bob  must  fight 
well."  Said  the  other,  "  If  they  all  fight  like  Tom, 
we're  bound  to  whip."  It  all  came  to  the  same 
thing  at  last,  but  the  contrast  was  very  apparent 
then. 

At  news  of  the  safety  of  his  enemy's  son,  the 
copperhead  had  lost  any  sympathy  he  may  have 
had  for  his  Union  antagonist,  and  the  other  no 
longer  looked  wistfully  at  his  foreman's  face 
when  they  chanced  to  meet. 

It  was  not  unnatural  that  the  two  girls,  Nan- 
nie and  Mary,  should  be  affected  by  the  hero- 
worshipping  spirit  of  the  town,  and  being  de- 


AT  HOME  127 

prived  of  the  objects  of  their  immediate  affection, 
enter  heartily  into  the  business  of  spoiling  all  the 
other  young  men  they  could.  To  Nannie,  it  was 
all  very  pleasant,  and  something  of  coquetry  en- 
tered into  her  treatment  of  the  soldiers.  But 
with  Mary  it  was  different.  Her  thoughts  and 
motives  were  serious,  and  her  chief  aim  was  to 
do  something  for  Tom's  old  associates,  for  Tom's 
sake. 

There  was  no  abatement  of  the  rigor  of  the  es- 
trangement between  her  and  her  father,  for  al- 
though, after  the  incident  of  the  letter,  she  had 
expected  him  to  call  her  home,  he  had  made  no 
further  sign,  nor  had  she.  She  had  yielded  not 
one  whit  in  her  devotion  and  loyalty  to  Kobert 
Yan  Doren.  But  she  took  pleasure  in  doing  lit- 
tle kindnesses  for  the  men  whom  she  knew  hated 
him  for  the  choice  he  had  made.  The  time  soon 
came,  when  even  this  pleasure,  gentle  as  it  was, 
was  denied  her. 

The  story  went  round  among  the  soldiers  that 
old  Waters'  daughter  was  the  sweetheart  of  a 
rebel  soldier,  and  that  in  spite  of  all  her  good 
work,  she  had  left  home  for  love  of  him  and  his 
cause,  and  they  grew  cold  towards  her.  Some 
were  even  rude. 

It  hurt  the  girl,  but  she  continued  her  minis- 
trations, nevertheless.  Then  one  day  as  she 
passed  through  the  camp  where  the  girls  some- 


128  THE  FANATICS 

times  went,  she  heard  a  voice  from  a  tent  singing 
derisively, 

"  Father  is  a  Unionist,  so  is  Brother  Tom, 
But  I,  I'm  making  lots  o'  things 
To  keep  a  rebel  warm." 

Mary  flushed  and  hurried  on,  but  the  voice 
sang  after  her : 

'*  Never  mind  my  Union  home,  never  mind  my  flag, 
What's  the  glorious  stars  and  stripes 
Beside  Jeff  Davis'  rag  ? 
Damn  my  home  and  family,  damn  my  Northern  pride, 
So  you  let  me  go  my  way  to  be  a  rebel's  bride." 

The  song  which  some  scalawag  had  impro- 
vised, cut  Mary  to  the  heart,  but  though  no  man 
would  have  dared  sing  it  openly,  she  never  took 
the  chance  of  hearing  it  again.  In  spite  of 
Nannie's  pleadings,  she  would  not  go  again  where 
soldiers  were  congregated.  Nor  would  she  tell 
her  reason,  not  that  she  felt  shame  in  her  love, 
but  that  there  seemed  some  shade  of  truth  in  the 
song.  She  did  want  to  go  her  way  and  she 
did  want  to  be  Eobert's  bride,  even  though  they 
called  him  by  such  a  name  as  rebel.  She  loved 
him  and  what  had  the  stars  and  stripes  or  love 
of  country  to  do  with  that  ?  What  he  believed 
was  nothing  to  her,  it  was  only  what  he  was. 

She  had  heard  from  Eobert  but  once  since  his 
departure ;  a  brief  but  brave  and  loving  letter, 


AT  HOME  129 

in  which  he  told  her  that  he  was  safe  within  the 
Confederate  lines,  and  spoke  of  John  Morgan, 
whom  he  had  already  begun  to  admire.  IS'ow  in 
the  dark  moment  of  her  sorrow,  when  every 
hand  seemed  turned  against  her  because  she  loved 
this  man,  she  dreamed  over  his  letter  as  if  it 
were  a  sacred  writing,  and  so  dreaming  kept  to 
herself  whenever  she  could.  Even  old  Nathan 
Woods  began  to  look  askance  at  her  when  her 
visits  and  ministrations  to  the  soldiers  ceased. 
But  he  comforted  himself  with  the  philosophy 
that  "  A  woman  is  an  unreasonable  creature  and 
never  is  responsible  for  her  actions,"  and  however 
false  this  may  be  in  fact,  it  satisfied  him  towards 
Mary,  and  kept  him  unchanged  to  her.  He  was 
influenced,  too,  by  Nannie's  stalwart  faith. 
While  she  could  not  understand  Mary,  could  not 
enter  into  the  secret  chambers  of  her  soul  and  see 
what  was  within  there,  she  believed  in  her,  and 
faith  is  stronger  than  knowledge. 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said  one  day  after  roundly 
scolding  her  friend  for  remaining  so  close  to  the 
house,  "  I  know  you've  got  some  good  reason, 
though  I'm  sure  it's  something  fanciful.  It's  so 
like  you,  Mary."  This  may  have  been  a  bit  in- 
consistent in  the  young  girl,  but  it  was  express- 
ive of  her  trust  in  Mary,  and  the  burdened  girl 
was  grateful  for  it. 

So,  with  bicker,  prejudice,  adulation,  discon- 


130  THE  FANATICS 

tent  and  a  hundred  other  emotions  that  must 
come  to  human  beings,  the  stream  of  days  went 
on,  and  the  reorganization  of  the  First  was  an 
accomplished  fact.  Still,  from  the  South  there 
came  news  of  battle  and  from  Cincinnati  there  were 
tidings  of  Kentucky's  threatening  attitude.  West 
Virginia  had  been  rescued  for  the  Union,  but 
what  if  this  even  more  powerful  state  went  over 
to  the  Confederacy.  Men  were  of  many  minds. 
Some  were  wondering  at  the  president  for  his 
tardiness,  and  others  cursing  Dennison  for  his 
rashness.  It  became  the  fashion  to  damn  Lin- 
coln on  Sunday  and  Dennison  on  Monday.  It 
was  from  such  a  hot-bed  of  discontent  that  the 
First  finally  tore  itself,  and  left  Dorbury  on  the 
last  day  of  October  for  the  southernmost  city  of 
the  state. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  JOURNEY   SOUTH 

The  condition  of  mind  in  which  young  Walter 
Stewart  left  Dorbury  was  not  calculated  to  bring 
him  back  hastily  for  the  reorganization  of  his  old 
regiment.  His  thoughts  were  more  of  seeing  his 
father  alive,  and  of  settling  their  diflPerences,  than 
of  the  righteousness  of  his  cause.  Indeed,  as  the 
train  sped  southward,  his  busy  mind  sometimes 
questioned  if  he  had  done  right.  If  the  North 
and  South  were  one  people  as  he  claimed,  would 
not  neutrality  have  been  the  better  course  ? 
Surely  two  brothers  have  the  right  to  differ  with- 
out the  whole  family's  putting  in.  Is  the  love  of 
country,  which  we  call  patriotism,  a  more  com- 
mendable trait  than  filial  affection  and  obedience, 
and  can  one  deficient  in  the  latter  be  fully  capa- 
ble of  comprehending  the  former  ?  Had  he  not 
by  the  very  act  of  disobeying  his  father's  wishes 
and  refuting  his  wisdom  in  a  case  where  right 
and  wrong  were  so  nearly  related,  demonstrated 
his  inability  for  a  high  devotion  and  obedience 

131 


132  THE  FAI^ATICS 

to  his  country?  These,  and  like  sophistries, 
raced  through  the  young  man's  mind  in  the  first 
heat  of  his  remorse,  and  for  the  time,  he  forgot 
that  his  choice  meant  not  less  love  for  his  father, 
but  a  broader  devotion  to  his  country.  It  was 
not  for  the  sake  of  disobedience  that  he  had  cast 
his  lot  with  the  North,  but  in  pursuance  of  an 
idea  of  a  larger  allegiance.  But  this  he  could 
not  see,  and  as  he  worried  and  speculated,  his 
distress  grew. 

When  he  reached  Washington,  he  had  antici- 
pations of  some  difficulty  in  securing  passage 
through  the  lines.  There  was  every  possibility 
of  his  being  taken  for  a  spy  or  an  informer  by  one 
side  or  the  other,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
lately  mustered  out  soldier  would  make  him  an 
object  of  suspicion  to  both  Unionist  and  Confed- 
erate. For  the  time  being,  his  anxiety  to  be 
away,  across  the  Potomac  and  into  Virginia 
drove  every  other  thought  out  of  his  head.  For- 
tunately for  him,  he  was  known  in  Washington, 
and  influential  friends  procured  for  him  passes 
through  the  Union  lines.  His  progress,  after  he 
reached  the  rebel  outposts,  was  less  speedy.  But 
foreseeing  this,  he  conceived  that  discretion 
would  be  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  so  waited 
for  night,  and  then  the  laxity  of  the  few  pickets 
scattered  about  helped  him,  and  the  stables  of 
Falls  Church  were  kind  to  him,  and  within  an 


A  JOUKISTEY  SOUTH  133 

hour  after  darkness  had  fallen,  he  was  galloping 
down  the  road  towards  Kockford. 

The  night  was  dark  and  the  road  none  too 
even,  but  he  rode  as  speedily  as  caution  would 
allow.  The  way  was  unfamiliar  to  hira,  but  he 
followed  the  directions  he  had  received,  trusting 
someAvhat  to  the  instincts  of  his  horse  to  keep 
the  path.  Now  and  then,  as  the  animal's  hoofs 
clattered  over  the  wooden  bridge  of  river  or 
streamlet,  he  held  his  breath  lest  he  should  rouse 
some  lurking  foeman.  Once  as  he  sped  along  a 
road  besides  which  the  trees  grew  thickly,  a 
voice  called  to  him  to  halt,  but  he  only  dug  his 
spurs  into  the  mare's  flank,  and  leaning  low  over 
her  neck,  urged  her  on.  Two  shots  spit  vainly 
in  the  darkness  as  the  road  fell  away  under  his 
horse's  feet. 

"  Suppose  I  should  miss  the  path,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "and  daylight  find  me  still  upon  the 
way?  Well,  it's  only  a  thing  to  chance  now, 
and  I  must  see  father  before  he  dies.  I  must  see 
him ! "  The  cry  died  away  between  clinched 
teeth,  and  leap  after  leap,  the  blackness  swal- 
lowed him,  and  vomited  him  forth  again.  The 
branches  of  the  trees  underneath  which  he  passed, 
reached  out  and  caught  at  him  as  if  they  would 
detain  him  from  his  errand.  The  wind  and  the 
cricket  and  all  the  voices  of  the  night  called  to 
him.     The  horse  stumbled  and  her  rider  lurched 


134  THE  FANATICS 

forward,  but  the  good  steed  was  up  and  on  again 
with  scarcely  a  break  in  her  pace,  as  if  she  knew 
that  the  man  upon  her  back  was  crying  in  an 
agony  of  fear,  "  Father,  father,  live  till  I  come !  " 

As  the  distance  lessened,  Walter's  mind  was 
in  a  tumult  of  emotions.  Again  and  again,  the 
picture  of  his  father  already  dead  came  before 
him.  The  white  covering  of  the  bed,  the  stark 
form  and  the  weeping  women  all  were  vivid  to 
him  as  actuality.  He  saw  a  light  ahead  of  him, 
and  checking  the  speed  of  his  horse,  he  rode  to- 
wards it.  But  he  found  that  it  came  from  a 
house  up  one  of  two  roads  which  forked  before 
him.  He  paused  and  looked  helplessly  at  the 
diverging  paths.  He  knew  there  was  no  time  to 
be  lost,  and  chafed  at  the  delay.  His  indecision, 
however,  did  not  last  long.  He  turned  the  ani- 
mal's head  up  the  road  on  which  the  light  was 
shining. 

Proceeding  cautiously,  he  found  that  the  rays 
which  had  guided  him  came  from  the  curtained, 
but  unshuttered  window  Of  a  little  house  stand- 
ing back  from  the  roadside,  on  a  terrace.  The 
place  itself,  did  not  look  formidable,  but  there 
was  no  telling  what  elements  of  further  delay 
were  behind  the  closed  door.  Nevertheless,  he 
reined  in,  and  bringing  his  horse  just  inside  the 
side  gateway,  hastened  up  the  terrace  and  knocked 
at  the  door.      There  was  the  shuffling  of  feet 


A  JOUKNEY  SOUTH  135 

within,  and  then  the  soft,  swift  scurrying  as  of 
some  one  hastening  from  the  room.  A  moment 
later,  the  back  door  slammed,  and  a  horse  and 
rider  clattered  around  the  side  of  the  house  and 
out  of  the  gate. 

In  spite  of  his  haste  and  anxiety,  Walter  could 
but  smile  at  the  grim  humor  of  the  situation. 
That  he,  who  stood  there  on  the  threshold, 
dreading  what  he  should  encounter  beyond, 
should  prove  a  source  of  terror  to  any  one 
else,  was  but  an  illustration  of  the  intermittent 
comedy  which  treads  upon  the  heels  of  tragedy 
in  the  stern  melodrama  of  war. 

His  reflections  took  but  a  moment ;  all  that 
had  passed,  had  hardly  taken  more  time,  but  be- 
fore the  impressions  were  out  of  his  mind,  he 
found  himself  again  knocking  at  the  door. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  came  a  woman's  voice. 

"A  stranger,  but  a  friend." 

"  How  do  I  know  that  you  are  a  friend  ?  " 

"  You  need  not  know,  you  need  not  even  open 
the  door,  only  answer  my  question.  I  am  hunt- 
ing the  house  of  Colonel  Stewart,  and  am  not 
sure  that  I  am  on  the  right  road.  Can  you 
direct  me  ?  " 

"  You  have  missed  your  way,"  said  the  hidden 
woman  in  a  voice  that  bespoke  relief  from  some 
fear.  "  You  should  have  taken  the  road  to  the 
right  at  the  forks.     The  house  is  about  two  miles 


136  THE  FANATICS 

beyond  on  the  right  side.  You  can  tell  it  with- 
out trouble.  It  is  a  large  house,  and  there  will 
be  lights  about  it,  for  the  colonel  is  very  sick." 

Walter  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  woman's  clos- 
ing words,  but  with  a  hearty  word  of  thanks, 
hurried  away  towards  the  gate.  He  was  almost 
blithe  with  the  thought  that  his  journey  would 
soon  be  over,  and  hope  rose  again  in  his  heart. 
His  father  might  be  alive.  He  would  be  alive. 
He  must  be.  So  he  went  from  hope  to  certainty 
as  he  passed  with  flying  steps  across  the  lawn 
and  terrace  to  the  gate.  There  he  stopped  with 
a  gasp  of  alarm.  His  horse  was  no  longer  there. 
Gone,  and  the  distance  between  him  and  his 
father  lessened  by  many  minutes  when  every 
second  counted. 

It  all  came  to  him  in  a  flash.  The  frightened 
rider  who  had  dashed  away  from  the  house  in  a 
flash,  fearing  pursuit,  had  taken  the  horse  with 
him,  or  the  animal,  itself,  had  become  frightened 
and  followed  involuntarily. 

Walter  halted  hardly  a  moment,  but  turned 
swiftly  back  to  the  house.  To  his  knock,  came 
the  woman's  voice  again  in  question. 

"  Some  one  has  taken  my  horse,"  he  cried. 

"  It  is  not  so  far  to  walk  from  here  to  Colonel 
Stewart's,"  said  the  woman  coldly. 

"  But  I  cannot  walk,  I  am  pressed  for  time." 

"  I  do  not  know  you,"  was  the  reply,  "  nor  do 


A  JOUENEY  SOUTH  137 

I  know  your  business,  but  I  warn  you  that  I  am 
armed,  and  you  had  better  go  away." 

"  My  God !  "  cried  Walter,  "  I  mean  you  no 
harm,  but  can't  you  help  me  to  a  horse,  or  must 
I  take  one  wherever  I  can  find  it  ?  I  am 
Colonel  Stewart's  son,  and  my  father  is  dying. 
I  must  see  him."  A  dry  sob  broke  in  his 
throat. 

An  exclamation  was  uttered  from  within. 
Something  that  was  very  like  the  thud  of  a  gun 
butt  sounded  on  the  carpeted  floor.  The  bolts 
were  shot  and  a  woman  stood  in  the  flood  of  yel- 
low light. 

In  the  first  instant,  Walter  saw  the  form  of  a 
tall  young  woman  with  fair  hair,  and  behind  her, 
the  room  disordered  as  by  hasty  movements.  A 
gun  stood  against  the  wall.  Further  details  he 
did  not  take  note  of. 

"Come  in  for  a  moment,"  said  the  woman, 
"  you  need  have  no  fear.  I  can  help  you  to  a 
horse."  She  was  hastening  into  a  wrap  and  hood 
as  she  spoke.  "We  already  know  of  you,  my 
brother  and  I ;  you  are  Colonel  Stewart's  Union- 
ist son." 

Walter  flushed,  but  raised  his  head  defiantly. 

The  young  woman  laughed  as  she  hastened  out 
of  the  room  and  came  back  with  a  lantern  and 
key.  "  You  need  have  no  fear,  there  are  no  am- 
bushes here.     Come."     She  led  the  way  around 


138  THE  FAISTATICS 

the  house,  where  Walter  could  see  the  low  out- 
lines of  the  outbuildings. 

"  You  gave  us  quite  a  fright ;  I  may  tell  you, 
now  that  I  know  who  you  are.  Brother  is  sus- 
pected of  Unionist  sentiments  and  has  been  look- 
ing to  be  arrested  every  moment.  To-night,  we 
took  you  for  a  Confederate  officer,  come  to  exer- 
cise that  unpleasant  commission,  and  it  was  he 
who  must  have  frightened  off  your  horse  as  he 
rode  away.  He's  on  Blue  Grass,  and  if  your 
horse  keeps  up  with  him,  they're  farther  away 
now  than  you  would  care  to  follow." 

During  the  last  words  she  was  unlocking  the 
barn  door.  Then  she  handed  the  lantern  to 
Walter,  and  called  softly,  "  Come,  Beth,  come." 
A  whinny  answered  her,  and  she  went  forward 
and  quickly  took  the  halter  from  a  sleek  brown 
mare.  Walter  started  in  to  put  the  bridle  on, 
but  the  girl  waved  her  hand. 

"  Ko,"  she  said,  "  I'll  do  it  myself.  Beth  is  my 
own  particular  pet,  and  is  somewhat  averse  to 
strangers.  You'll  have  to  ride  bareback  too,  as 
there  isn't  another  man's  saddle  about.  But 
she'll  carry  you  safe  when  she's  once  on  the  road, 
and  she'll  turn  in  the  right  gate,  for  she  knows 
the  way." 

The  young  man  was  stammering  his  thanks  as 
the  girl  led  the  horse  out.  He  would  have  walked 
with  her  back  to  the  house,  but  upon  an  assur- 


A  JOUKNEY  SOUTH  139 

ance  that  she  was  not  afraid,  he  leaped  to  the 
mare's  back  and  was  off. 

But  it  was  not  written  that  the  object  of  his 
heart  should  be  so  easily  obtained.  He  had 
scarcely  gone  half  way  to  the  crossroads,  when 
the  ominous  word,  "  Halt !  "  sounded  again  in  his 
ears,  and  several  mounted  men  rose  as  from  the 
road  before  him.  Again,  he  gave  spur  to  his 
horse,  but  this  time,  it  was  only  for  a  moment 
that  he  moved,  and  then  he  came  crash  into  an- 
other horseman,  and  felt  the  cold  muzzle  of  a 
pistol  pressed  against  his  face,  while  a  hand 
seized  his  bridle. 

"  Steady,  my  boy,  steady,  unless  you  want  to 
get  hurt.  We  don't  want  to  do  you  any  harm, 
but  you  mustn't  move." 

"  Are  you  hurt,  sergeant  ?  "  asked  a  voice  from 
the  darkness. 

"  No,  cap'n,  not  particular.  I  may  be  a  little 
strained,  and  this  horse  may  be  a  little  bruised 
up,  but  I  was  ready  for  the  shock.  I  knew  the 
youngster  was  game." 

Just  now  the  man  addressed  as  captain  rode 
up. 

"  Well,  youngster,"  he  said,  "  we've  got  a  little 
business  with  you,  and  I  reckon  we're  just  in 
time." 

Walter's  head  was  whirling  with  the  shock  of 
his  collision  and  he  had  a  mean  pain  in  the  leg 


140  THE  FANATICS 

that  had  struck  the  other  man's  saddle.  But  he 
spoke  up  hotly. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this  outrage  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  Cannot  a  man  and  a  Yirginian  at  that, 
ride  his  own  roads  in  safety  by  night  and  by 
day  ?  " 

"Hoity-toity,  not  so  fast,  my  young  Union 
peacock,  not  so  fast.  Any  Yirginian  may  go  his 
way  in  Virginia  until  he  becomes  dangerous  to 
Yirginia's  cause.  Then  he  comes  with  us  as  you 
do." 

"  What  right  have  you  to  take  me  in  this  high- 
handed way  ?  " 

"  We  needn't  bandy  words,  but  I  can  say  that 
we  have  the  right  that  any  state  has  to  arrest 
within  its  borders  any  citizen  who  is  suspected 
of  working  or  attempting  to  work  against  its 
interest  and  safety.  We  have  been  watching  you 
for  a  long  time,  Etheridge,  and  we  know  what 
your  plans  are." 

They  had  been  standing  for  the  few  moments 
that  they  talked,  but  now  the  company  started 
to  move  off. 

"  Stop,"  cried  Walter,  as  the  name  was  called, 
"  whom  do  you  take  me  for  ?  " 

"We  know  who  you  are,"  said  the  captain 
grimly. 

"  But  my  name  is  not  Etheridge,  you  are  mis- 
taken." 


A  JOUKNEY  SOUTH  141 

"  What  is  this,  sergeant  ?  "  asked  the  officer  in 
charge  of  the  party  and  who  had  done  most  of 
the  talking. 

"  I  know  the  horse,  captain,  it's  his  sister's." 

"  Come  on,  then,  don't  delay  any  further.  It's 
no  use  denying  your  identity." 

"But  I  can  prove  to  you  that  I'm  not  the  man 
you're  seeking,  nor  is  this  horse  mine.  Having 
lost  my  own,  I  borrowed  it  at  a  house  a  little 
way  up  the  road  here." 

**  A  very  likely  story." 

"But  if  there  is  any  one  here  who  knows 
Etheridge,  let  him  look  at  me  and  see." 

The  sergeant  leaned  forward  and  striking  a 
match  looked  into  Walter's  face. 

"Whew,  captain,"  he  whistled,  "it's  true, 
we've  caught  the  wrong  bird.  This  is  not  Nel- 
son Etheridge.     He's  a  stranger." 

"  Well,  who  the  devil  are  you  ? "  asked  the 
captain  shortly.  "  Strangers  without  credentials 
are  not  very  welcome  about  here  these  times." 

"  My  name  is  Walter  Stewart,  and  my  father 
is  Colonel  Stewart  who  lives  about  two  miles 
from  here." 

"  Stewart — Walter  Stewart,  hurrah,  boys !  " 
cried  the  captain,  "  we've  lost  one  good  bird  but 
caged  another!  This  is  Colonel  Stewart's 
Yankee  soldier  son.     You'll  do,  come  on." 

"  But,  captain,  I'm  not  in  the  service  now,  and 


142  THE  FANATICS 

my  father  is  dying.  A  few  minutes'  delay  may 
keep  me  from  ever  seeing  him  alive." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  was  the  captain's  reply,  "  but 
you  have  been  a  Union  soldier.  "We  take  you 
leaving  a  suspected  house,  and  find  you  as  you 
tacitly  admit  within  our  lines  and  without  cre- 
dentials. It  may  be  hard  for  you,  but  you  are  our 
prisoner." 

"  Very  well,  but  cannot  I  be  paroled  at  once  ? 
If  necessary,  send  a  soldier  with  me  to  my  house, 
and  keep  me  under  guard." 

The  captain  halted.  "  I  know  your  father,"  he 
said  coldly,  "and  he  is  a  brave  man  and  a  South- 
ern gentleman  who  has  not  forsaken  the  South. 
For  his  sake,  I  will  do  as  you  say,  even  though  I 
exceed  my  authority.  I  will  send  two  men  with 
you.  You  will  remain  under  guard  until  I  secure 
your  parole,  if  that  may  be  done." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Walter. 

"  Sergeant  Davis  ! "     The  sergeant  saluted. 

"  You  and  Private  Wilkins  will  take  charge  of 
the  prisoner.  When  his  parole  has  been  secured, 
you  will  be  relieved.  Until  then,  the  closest 
vigilance." 

"  I  am  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,"  said  Walter 
calmly. 

The  oflScer  vouchsafed  no  answer,  but  with  his 
remaining  associates  spurred  on  into  the  darkness, 
leaving  the  prisoner  to  ride  away  with  his  captors. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A   STEWART   COMES   TO   HIS   OTTN" 

As  Walter  approached  his  father's  house,  he 
saw  lights  moving  about  in  the  upper  chambers, 
and  he  began  to  fear  the  worst. 

"  Have  you  heard  any  news  of  my  father  ? " 
he  asked  the  sergeant. 

"None,  except  that  he  is  a  pretty  sick  man 
and  not  expected  to  last  long." 

"  How  did  the  captain  and  all  of  you  come  to 
know  about  me  ?  " 

"The  servants  will  talk  and  it's  few  family 
secrets  they  don't  know  and  tell.  Your  father 
invested  in  some  niggers  as  soon  as  he  got  here 
in  order  to  show  his  contempt  for  the  Yankees' 
invasion,  but  they're  too  new  to  have  any  of  the 
family  pride  that  the  old  ones  used  to  have. 
Why  an  old  family  servant  would  rather  die 
than  tell  any  of  the  happenings  at  the  big  house, 
but  these  darkies  of  your  father's  have  blown  his 
business  broadcast." 

Walter  shivered  at  the  man's  tone  and  his 
revelations. 

143 


144  THE  FANATICS 

In  order  not  to  alarm  the  house  unduly  they 
dismounted  at  the  gate  and  left  the  private  to 
lead  the  horses  around  to  the  stables  while  the 
sergeant  went  with  Walter.  Their  ring  brought 
a  servant  to  the  door,  who  stood  in  white-eyed 
astonishment  as  he  saw  the  young  man,  worn 
and  haggard  with  anxiety  and  beside  him,  an 
oflBcer  in  grey. 

"  Wy,  w'y,  gent'men,  dis  hyeah's  a  confederate 
house." 

"  Shut  up  and  let  us  in.  Make  as  little  stir  as 
possible,  and  bring  my  mother  to  the  parlor. 
Sergeant,  this  will  be  a  family  meeting." 

"  You  know  my  orders,  sir." 

"I  do,  and  I  am  enough  of  a  soldier  not  to 
want  you  to  disobey  them ;  but  I  prefer  seeing 
my  family  alone.  Examine  the  room  where  I 
shall  talk  with  my  mother,  and  have  the  places 
of  egress  guarded.  I  think  the  windows  let  out 
on  a  veranda." 

"  There  may  be  more  than  one  outlet,  and  I 
have  not  enough  men  to  guard  them  if  there  is." 

"  You  forget,  sergeant,"  said  Walter  haughtily, 
"  that  I  am  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman." 

"  I'm  not  much  of  either  yet,"  returned  the 
non-commissioned  officer  calmly,  "  but  I'm  learn- 
ing enough  of  a  soldier's  business  to  know  how 
to  obey  orders." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  younger  man  blush- 


A  STEWAET  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN    145 

ing.  "Come,  let's  examine  the  room  together 
and  see  what  dispositions  we  can  make." 

At  this  period,  Private  Wilkins  came  in  from 
his  errand.  They  stationed  him  outside  and 
passed  into  the  room.  It  was  a  large  apartment, 
with  three  long  windows,  opening,  as  Walter  had 
surmised,  on  the  veranda. 

"  You  see,"  pursued  the  sergeant,  "  it's  just  as 
I  said.  You  have  too  many  places  by  which  to 
leave,  though  I  do  not  doubt  your  honor." 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  Walter  going  to  the  door. 
"  Ah,  this  will  serve  you,"  and  he  held  up  a  key. 
"  Lock  this  door  that  shuts  off  one  outlet.  One 
of  you  patrol  the  veranda  and  the  other  hold 
the  hall.     Will  that  suit  you  ?  " 

"  Perfectly."  And  the  sergeant  proceeded  to 
do  as  directed.  He  stationed  Wilkins  in  the 
hall,  and  then  as  he  was  about  to  step  out  upon 
the  veranda,  turned,  and  on  a  sudden  impulse, 
saluted  the  young  private  as  if  he  were  an  officer. 

He  had  hardly  left  the  room,  when  Mrs. 
Stewart  came  rushing  in. 

"  Walter,  Walter,  my  boy ! " 

"  Dear  little  mother." 

"  Oh,  you  are  well,  you  are  well,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"In  body,  yes,  mother,  but — but — am  I  in 
time  ?  " 

"Thank  God,  yes." 

The  young  man  bowed  his  head  and  the  ges- 


146  THE  FANATICS 

ture  itself,  was  a  prayer  of  thanksgiving  that  God 
understood. 

"  I  have  so  much  that  I  want  to  say  to  you, 
mother,  but  take  me  to  him  at  once.  I  am 
afraid  that  it  will  be  too  late.  You  shall  have  a 
talk  with  me  afterwards."  He  put  his  arm  af- 
fectionately about  his  mother's  waist. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Walter,"  she  said.  "  He  is 
yet  conscious.  Oh,  Walter,  Walter,  humor  him, 
humor  him  in  his  dying  moments.  Promise, 
whatever  he  asks." 

"  Whatever  he  asks  ?    Why,  what  can  he  ask  ?  " 

"Perhaps  one  great  thing.  Your  father  has 
not  changed,  even  in  the  hands  of  death." 

"  I  shall  promise  what  I  can  without  lying." 

"  If  necessary,  my  son,  lie,  to  ease  your  father's 
heart.  Have  I  ever  given  you  such  advice  be- 
fore ?     Will  you  do  it  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  fondly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  answered  firmly,  "I  will  lie,  if  need  be. 
Take  me  to  him." 

They  started  out  but  Walter  turned  back  to 
call  the  sergeant. 

"  I  am  going  to  my  father's  room,"  he  said. 

"  I  will  come  as  far  as  the  door,"  he  said,  "  for 
the  rest,  I  leave  that  to  you.     Go  on." 

As  they  passed  up  the  broad  steps,  Mrs.  Stewart 
asked  in  some  agitation,  "What  does  the  pres- 
ence of  those  soldiers  mean  ?  " 


A  STEWAET  COMES  TO  HIS  OWK    147 

"Don't  disturb  yourself,  mother,  but  I  was 
taken  on  the  way  here  after  I  had  passed  the  reb 
— the  Confederate  lines,  and  I  am  a  prisoner." 

She  grasped  him  by  the  arm.  ''  A  prisoner  ?  " 
she  gasped. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,"  he  went  on  soothingly, 
"I  shall  be  paroled,  the  captain  has  as  good 
as  promised  it,  and  then  I  shall  be  here  with 
you." 

"  That  is  almost  good,"  she  replied,  "  and  you 
will  have  less  to  promise." 

The  light  was  turned  low  in  the  sick  room,  and 
a  nurse  glided  out  as  they  entered.  Walter's 
sister  passed  out  also,  and  in  passing  pressed  his 
hand. 

Mrs.  Stewart  left  her  son  at  the  door  and  went 
forward  to  the  bed,  a  shadowy,  gliding  form  in 
the  dim  room. 

"  Here  is  Walter,"  she  said  softly. 

The  sick  man  opened  his  eyes,  and  said 
weakly,  but  with  some  of  his  old  coldness, 
"  Kaise  the  light,  and  let  me  see  him." 

"  Father ! "  the  boy  stood  over  the  bed. 

The  eyes  that  even  then  death  was  glazing, 
grew  brighter  as  the  colonel  looked  upon  his  son, 
but  the  words  that  he  whispered  huskily  were, 
"Thank  God,  he  does  not  wear  their  uniform. 
Walter!" 

The  young  man   threw  his  arms  about  his 


148  THE  FA:^ATICS 

father  and  held  him  close  to  his  heaving  breast. 
His  eyes  were  tearless,  but  his  bronzed  face  was 
pale  and  his  throat  throbbed  convulsively. 
"  Father,  I  am  so  sorry  to  have  grieved  you,  so 
sorry." 

"  You're  a  Stewart,"  said  the  old  man  weakly, 
but  dotingly.  "  They  always  were — they  always 
were  strong-headed.  But  you  won't  go  back  to 
them,  will  you,  Walter  ?  Will  you  ?  For  your 
father's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  Virginia,  you  won't 
go  back  to  the — Yankees  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  lie  to  you,  father,  now,"  the  filming 
eye  formed  a  new  light,  and  his  mother  started 
forward. 

"  What ! " 

"  I  could  not  go  back  to  them  if  I  would.  I 
was  taken  on  the  way  here,  and  am  a  prisoner  in 
the  hands  of  our  own  people." 

The  old  man  settled  back  with  a  glad  sigh. 
"  This  is  very  good,"  he  said,  "  very  good.  They 
can  never  have  your  services  again.  Better  a 
prisoner  in  the  camp  of  our  people — our  people 
— you  said,  Walter,  than  a  general  of  those — 
aliens.     Now  I  am  content." 

"  Would  you  not  better  rest  now  ?  "  asked  his 
son  gently. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will  rest,"  and  he  relaxed  again 
upon  his  pillow. 

Walter  was  easing  his  arms  from  underneath 


A  STEWAET  COMES  TO  HIS  OWK    149 

the  grey  head,  when  the  muscles  of  the  dying 
man  took  on  strength  again.     His  eyes  opened. 

"  Would  you,"  he  said  almost  fiercely,  "  would 
you  go  back  to  them  again  if  you  could  ?  " 

Walter  cast  one  agonizing  look  at  his  mother's 
appealing  eyes,  then  he  answered  firmly,  "  No, 
father,  not  if  I  could." 

His  father  smiled.  "  I  knew  it,"  he  murmured. 
"  He  is  a  Stewart,  and  a  Stewart  must  come  back 
to  his  own.     Now  I  shall  rest." 

He  sank  into  a  soft  slumber,  and  mother  and 
son  left  the  room  on  tiptoe. 

"  Come,  you  will  go  and  see  Emily  now,"  said 
his  mother. 

"  Let  them  come  to  my  room,"  he  said,  "  wher- 
ever you  have  placed  me.  We  must  make  it  as 
easy  for  Sergeant  Davis  as  possible." 

The  morrow  proved  that  the  colonel  had  been 
right.  He  had  rested,  and  the  rest  was  one  that 
should  be  eternally  unbroken. 

As  soon  as  he  found  that  the  home  was  a  place 
of  death  and  mourning,  the  sergeant,  be  it  said 
to  his  credit,  relaxed  some  of  his  vigilance,  and 
Walter  was  allowed  to  attend  to  the  duties  con- 
nected with  his  father's  funeral  with  greater 
freedom.  The  same  day,  his  parole  was  granted, 
and  the  house  given  over  again  to  privacy. 

In  spite  of  a  natural  sorrow  for  his  father's 
loss,  Walter  felt  a  sense  of  peace,  even  joy,  at 


150  THE  FANATICS 

the  reconciliation.  The  words,  "E'ow  I  shall 
rest,"  rang  in  his  head  with  soothing  cadence. 
It  was  so  much  better  this  way  than  that  his 
father  should  have  gone  from  him  in  anger  and 
reproach. 

The  joy  Walter  felt  in  coming  back  into  the 
family  circle  proved  how  much  his  heart  must 
have  been  hungering  for  it.  Drawn  by  a  strong 
enthusiasm  for  what  he  deemed  the  right,  he  had 
gone  off  into  the  wilderness  to  face  death.  But 
he  had  not  ceased  to  look  back  with  longing 
eyes  towards  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt.  Being  back 
to  them,  he  was  not  prone  to  question  why  he 
came.  The  fact  in  itself,  was  sufficiently  preg- 
nant of  content.  Somehow,  he  did  not  feel 
ashamed  of  the  satisfaction  he  felt  in  having  the 
parole  solve  a  vexing  problem.  He  had  lied  to 
his  father,  had  he  not,  in  saying  that  he  would 
not  go  back  if  he  could  ?  And  then,  he  began  to 
quibble  with  himself.  Had  he  lied,  after  all? 
Was  it  not  merely  the  premature  assertion  of  a 
condition  of  mind  that  was  to  be  ?  Would  he  go 
back  if  he  could  ?  He  was  not  sure.  His  father 
had  called  him  a  Stewart,  and  that  meant  much. 
It  was  sweet  to  be  there,  with  his  own  family,  in 
the  great  old  place.  Going  to  the  window,  his 
eyes  swept  the  surrounding  landscape  with  rest- 
ful satisfaction. 

There  was  the  broad  sweep  of  lawn,  and  across 


A  STEWAKT  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN    151 

that,  rugged  against  the  sky,  the  dark  row  of 
outbuildings,  the  kitchen,  the  stables  and  the 
negro  cabins,  and  beyond  that,  the  woods.  It 
was  fine  and  manorial,  and  appealed  to  the  some- 
thing in  Walter  which  is  in  every  Anglo-Saxon, 
the  love  of  pomp  and  circumstance  and  power. 
After  all,  it  was  for  this  he  had  been  dragged 
from  the  camp  and  from  the  hardships  of  war, 
and  was  it  not  a  pleasant  change  ?  Fate  had 
been  kind  to  him.  There  were  many  young 
fellows  who  would  envy  him,  so  why  should  he 
repine  ? 

While  he  was  still  in  the  midst  of  his  medita- 
tions, his  mother  came  into  the  room. 

"  Brooding  again  ?  "  she  said.  "  You  must  not 
do  this,  my  son." 

He  blushed  and  raised  his  hand  in  protest,  but 
his  mother  went  on,  *'  I  know  you  were  influenced 
by  a  strong  principle,  my  son,  a  principle  so 
deeply  rooted  that  you  were  willing  to  give  up 
everything  for  it,  and  you  are  longing  to  be  back 
again.  But  yours  are,  after  all,  only  the  common 
fortunes  of  war." 

The  young  man's  face  was  burning,  and  all  the 
thoughts  that  had  just  passed  through  his  mind 
came  surging  back  in  an  accusing  flood.  He  saw 
that  he  had  weakened  on  the  side  of  his  affec- 
tions, and  that  for  a  little  while  he  had  put  home 
and  ease  and  mother-love  before  the  cause  for 


152  THE  FANATICS 

which  he  had  once  been  so  hot.  His  shame 
seethed  in  his  face. 

"  You  know  what  I  told  father,"  he  said,  "  that 
I  would  not  go  back  if  I  could  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  and  I  understand  what  the 
falsehood  cost  you,  but  weighed  against  what  it 
brought  to  your  father  and  me,  it  seems  justifi- 
able. Why,  Walter,  don't  you  see  that  even  a 
lie  that  softens  a  father's  deathbed  is  a  noble 
sacrifice  ?  " 

"I  should  feel  the  better  if  it  were  that 
way,  but  it  is  not  a  lie.  It  is  coming  to  be 
true." 

"Your  heart  is  really  coming  over  to  the 
South?" 

"Not  to  the  South  so  much  as  to  you  and 
Emily  and  home  and  father's  memory." 

"  Walter,  Walter,"  she  cried,  embracing  him, 
"  this  is  nothing  to  hang  your  head  about ;  this 
is  true  nobility  !  " 

Her  mother-love  blinded  her  sight  to  his  moral 
defection,  but  he  saw  and  saw  clearly,  and  was 
ashamed. 

"It  is  strange,"  Mrs.  Stewart  mused,  "how 
things  have  balanced.  If  the  South  has  gained  an 
adherent  in  you,  the  North  has  just  taken  one  of 
Yirginia's  own  sons." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  news  came  to  us  this  morning  that  Nel- 


A  STEWAKT  COMES  TO  HIS  OWN    153 

son  Etheridge  has  not  returned,  but  has  gone  over 
to  the  Union  lines." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? "  cried  Walter, 
starting  up. 

"  We  sent  Caesar  with  the  horse  this  morning." 

"  Oh,  I  wanted  to  take  it  over  myself  and 
thank  Miss  Etheridge  in  person," 

"  You  will  have  many  chances  to  thank  her," 
said  his  mother.  "She  is  a  great  friend  of 
Emily's  and  is  often  here." 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  he  stammered,  "  that  is,  on 
Emily's  account." 

When  his  mother  left  him,  he  too,  went  from 
the  room,  and  sought  the  room  where  his  father 
lay.  He  drew  back  the  cloth  and  looked  at  the 
calm  face,  as  stern  and  white  as  a  figure  in  mar- 
ble. Even  in  death,  the  lips  had  found  their  old 
line  of  compression,  and  the  chin  had  not  lost  its 
decision. 

"  Oh,  my  father,"  said  Walter,  "  I  am  a 
weaker  man  than  you,  but  I  am  more  your  son 
than  I  knew."  He  replaced  the  cloth  and  went 
sadly  away. 

The  funeral  of  Colonel  Stewart  was  a  piteous 
affair.  The  remnants  of  the  families  about  came 
to  pay  their  respects  to  the  dead.  But  mostly, 
they  were  women  or  old  men.  The  army  had 
taken  the  rest.  The  clergyman  who  conducted 
the  services  wore  the  grey  under  his  gown,  and 


154:  THE  FANATICS 

as  soon  as  his  work  was  done,  left  his  vestments 
and  rode  back  to  the  regiment  of  which  he  was 
chaplain. 

People  looked  askance  at  Walter  or  did  not 
look  at  him  at  all.  To  them,  he  had  the  shame 
of  being  a  Unionist  on  parole,  but  within  him 
there  was  a  greater  shame — that  he  was  neither 
with  them  nor  against  them. 


CHAPTEK  Xiy 

THE   CONTRABANDS 

It  was  now  that  a  new  unpleasantness  began 
to  harass  the  already  burdened  people  of  Ohio. 
The  decree  of  General  Butler  making  all  slaves 
who  came  into  camp  contraband  of  war,  affected 
the  negroes  not  only  in  his  immediate  vicinity, 
but  wherever  there  was  a  Union  camp.  Drunk 
with  the  dream  of  freedom,  at  the  first  intimation 
of  immunity,  they  hastened  to  throw  off  their 
shackles  and  strike  for  the  long-coveted  liberty. 
Women,  children,  young,  able-bodied  men  and 
the  feeble  and  infirm,  all  hastened  towards 
the  Union  lines.  Thence,  it  was  usually  an  easy 
matter,  or  at  least,  one  possible  of  accomplish- 
ment, to  work  their  way  North  to  the  free 
states. 

Hardly  a  camp,  hardly  a  column  in  which  the 
officers  were  not  reputed  vigorously  to  oppose 
the  admission  of  slaves  but  presented  a  strange 
and  varied  appearance.  In  the  rear,  but  keeping 
close  to  their  saviors  always,  straggled  a  lot  of 
half -clad,  eager  negroes  of  all  ages  and  conditions, 

155 


156  THE  FAI^ATICS 

bearing  every  conceivable  form  of  movable 
property — bags,  bundles,  bedclothes,  cooking 
utensils,  and  even  an  occasional  calf  or  sheep 
trailed  along.  Many,  indeed,  found  employment 
as  the  servants  of  officers,  where  their  traditional 
qualifications  as  cooks  or  valets  came  into  full 
play.  But  for  the  most  part,  they  simply  hung 
on,  worrying  and  embarrassing  the  soldiers  with 
their  importunities,  sickening  and  dying  from 
fatigue  and  exposure,  and  conducting  themselves 
altogether,  like  the  great,  helpless,  irresponsible 
children  that  they  were. 

To  those,  who  only  a  few  years  ago,  primed 
with  the  prejudices  of  their  masters,  had  looked 
upon  the  Yankees  as  monsters,  there  had  come  a 
great  change,  and  every  man  who  wore  the  blue 
had  become  as  God's  own  vicegerent.  They  had 
been  told  that  the  Yankees  had  horns,  and  many 
of  them  believed  it,  but  on  contact,  the  only  horn 
that  they  had  found  was  the  horn  of  plenty,  and 
their  old  faith  in  their  masters'  infallibility  died. 

They  were  not  all  a  burden,  though.  In  the 
gloom  of  the  dark  hours,  their  light-heartedness 
cheered  on  the  march  ;  their  pranks,  their  hymns 
and  their  ditties  made  life  and  light.  Through 
the  still  watches  of  the  night,  the  lonely  sentinel 
on  his  beat,  heard  their  singing  and  sometimes 
he  thought  of  home  with  a  choking  at  his  throat, 
and  had  a  vision  of  a  tender  mother  singing  to 


THE  CONTKABANDS  157 

the  babe  upon  her  breast,  and  he  looked  up  to 
the  stars,  and  was  alone  no  more. 

The  poor  blacks,  wandering  in  the  darkness  of 
their  ignorance  were  as  frightened  children  in  the 
night.  They  had  lost  faith  in  their  masters,  but 
it  was  not  lost  to  them  entire,  only  transferred 
to  these  new  beings,  who  mastered  them  by  the 
power  of  love.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  they 
shouted  and  sang,  and  that  often  their  songs 
were  *'  Out  of  Old  Egypt,"  "  De  Promised  Lan'," 
and  "  Go  Down  Moses  "  ? 

One  of  the  principal  songs  they  sang,  ran  thus, 
a  low  minor  melody  at  first,  then  breaking  in 
the  improvisation  into  a  joyous  shout : 

**  In  Egypt  I  sang  a  moun'ful  song, 

Oh,  Lawd,  de  life  was  ha'd; 
Dey  said  yo'  bondage  won't  be  long, 

Oh,  Lawd,  de  life  was  ha'd. 
Dey  preached  an'  dey  prayed,  but  de  time  went  on, 

Oh,  Lawd,  de  life  was  ha'd; 
De  night  was  black  w'en  dey  talked  of  dawn, 

Oh,  Lawd,  de  life  was  ha'd: 
"We  fought  'twas  day  in  de  lightin'  flash, 

Oh,  Lawd,  de  life  was  ha'd. 
But  night  come  down  wid  de  mastah's  lash, 

Oh,  Lawd,  de  life  was  ha'd." 

And,  then,  some  clear  voice  would  break  into 
further  improvisation, 

"  But  de  Yankees  come  and  dey  set  us  free, 
T'ank  Gawd,  hit's  bettah  now, 


158  THE  FANATICS 

De  Yankee  man  is  de  man  fu'  me, 
T'ank  Gawd,  hit's  bettah  now  — 

He  gi'  me  braid  an'  he  gi'  me  meat, 
T'ank  Gawd,  hit's  bettah  now, 

Eatin'  nevah  did  seem  so  sweet, 
T'ank  Gawd,  hit's  bettah  now." 


For  them  it  was  better  now,  though  they  toiled 
and  struggled  and  fell  by  the  wayside.  The  ab- 
stract idea  of  freedom  which  they  did  not  yet 
understand,  had  become  a  fetich  to  them.  And 
over  the  burning  sands,  or  through  the  winter's 
snow  where  they  trudged  with  bleeding  feet, 
they  kept  their  stalwart  faith  in  it.  They  were 
free  at  last,  and  being  free,  no  evil  thing  could 
hurt  them. 

It  was  strange  that  most  of  them  should  not 
have  become  discouraged  and  gone  back  to  the 
fleshpots  still  in  Egypt.  The  Union  officers  did 
not  understand  these  great  children  who  flocked 
so  insistently  about  their  heels.  Some  were 
harsh  to  them,  and  others  who  would  have  been 
kind,  did  not  know  how.  But  they  staid  on  and 
on,  clinging  to  the  garments  of  the  army,  going 
from  camp  to  camp,  until  they  swept  like  a  plague 
of  locusts  into  some  I^orthern  town. 

Ohio,  placed  as  she  was,  just  on  the  border  of 
the  slave  territory,  was  getting  more  than  her 
share  of  this  unwelcome  population,  and  her 
white  citizens  soon  began  to  chafe  at  it.     Was 


THE  CONTKABANDS  169 

their  free  soil  to  become  the  haven  for  escaped 
negroes  ?  Was  this  to  be  the  stopping  ground 
for  every  runaway  black  from  the  South  ?  Would 
they  not  become  a  menace  to  the  public  safety  ? 
Would  they  not  become  a  public  charge  and 
sorely  strain  that  generosity  that  was  needed  to 
encourage  and  aid  the  soldiers  in  the  field? 
These  and  a  thousand  such  conjectures  and  ques- 
tions were  rife  about  the  hapless  blacks.  The 
whole  gamut  of  argument  that  had  been  used  in 
'49,  '50  and  '51  was  run  again.  The  menace  of 
Maryland  with  her  free  negroes  was  again  held 
up.  The  cry  rose  for  the  enforcement  of  the 
law  for  the  restriction  of  emancipated  negroes, 
while  others  went  to  the  extreme  of  crying  for 
the  expulsion  of  all  blacks  from  the  state. 

Since  1829,  there  had  been  a  gradual  change 
for  the  better  in  the  attitude  of  Ohio  towards 
her  colored  citizens,  but  now,  all  over  the  state, 
and  especially  in  the  southern  counties  and  towns 
there  had  come  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling, 
and  the  people  rose  generally  against  the  possi- 
bility of  being  overwhelmed  by  an  influx  of  run- 
away slaves.  Their  temper  grew^  and  ominous 
mutterings  were  heard  on  every  side.  The  first 
great  outburst  of  popular  wrath  came  when 
negro  men  began  offering  themselves  for  mili- 
tary service,  and  some  extremists  urged  the 
policy  of  accepting  them. 


160  THE  FANATICS 

"Take  them,"  said  the  extremists,  "and  you 
break  the  backbone  of  the  South's  power.  While 
the  Southern  men  are  in  the  field,  fighting  against 
the  government  their  negro  slaves  are  at  home 
raising  supplies  for  them,  and  caring  for  their 
families.  When  we  enlist  them,  whom  have 
they  to  leave  for  such  duties  ?  " 

But  all  the  North  held  up  its  hands  and  cried, 
"  What,  put  black  men  beside  our  boys  to  fight  ? 
Let  slaves  share  with  them  the  honor  and  glory 
of  military  service  ?     Never ! " 

The  army  itself  hurled  back  its  protest,  "  We 
are  fighting  for  the  Union ;  we  are  not  fighting 
for  niggers,  and  we  will  not  fight  with  them." 

From  none  of  the  states  came  a  more  pro- 
nounced refusal  than  from  Ohio.  She  had  set 
her  face  against  men  of  color.  What  wonder 
then,  that  their  coming  into  the  state  aroused  all 
her  antagonistic  blood  ?  Here,  for  the  time,  all 
party  lines  fell  away,  and  all  the  people  were 
united  in  one  cause — resistance  to  the  invasion 
of  the  black  horde.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
Butler's  proclamation  struck  through  the  turmoil 
like  a  thunderbolt,  and  the  word  "  Contraband  " 
became  a  menace  to  the  whites  and  a  reproach 
to  the  blacks. 

The  free  blacks  of  Dorbury  themselves,  took  it 
up,  and  even  before  they  could  pronounce  the 
word  that  disgusted  them,  they  were  fighting 


THE  CONTKABANDS  161 

their  unfortunate  brothers  of  the  South  as  vigor- 
ously as  their  white  neighbors.  "  Contraband  " 
became  the  fighting  banter  for  black  people  in 
Ohio.  But  the  stream  kept  pouring  in.  In  spite 
of  resistance,  abuse  and  oppression,  there  was  a 
certain  calm  determination  about  these  fugitive 
slaves  that  was  of  the  stuff  that  made  the  Puri- 
tans. As  far  North  as  Oberlin  and  Cleveland, 
they  did  not  often  make  their  way.  If  it  was 
their  intention  to  stop  in  Ohio  at  all,  they  usually 
ended  their  journey  at  the  more  Southern  towns. 
"While  the  spirit  in  the  Northern  towns  was 
calmer,  it  was,  perhaps,  just  as  well  that  they 
were  not  overrun.  In  Cleveland,  especially,  nu- 
merous masters  of  the  south,  averse  to  making 
slaves  of  their  own  offspring,  had  colonized  their 
discarded  negro  mistresses  and  their  illegitimate 
offspring,  and  these  people,  blinded  by  God  knows 
what  idea  of  their  own  position,  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world,  had  made  an  aristocracy  of  their  own 
shame. 

In  Dorbury,  the  negro  aristocracy  was  not  one 
founded  upon  mixed  blood,  but  upon  free  birth 
or  manumission  before  the  war.  Even  the 
church,  whose  broad  wings  are  supposed  to  cover 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  turned  its  face 
against  the  poor  children  of  a  later  bondage. 

After  much  difficulty,  the  negro  contingent  in 
Dorbury  had  succeeded  in  establishing  a  small 


162  THE  FANATICS 

house  of  worship  in  an  isolated  section  known  as 
"  the  commons."  Here,  according  to  their  own 
views,  they  met  Sunday  after  Sunday  to  give 
praise  and  adoration  to  the  God  whom  they,  as 
well  as  the  whites,  claimed  as  theirs,  and  hither, 
impelled  by  the  religious  instincts  of  their  race, 
came  the  contrabands  on  reaching  the  town.  But 
were  they  received  with  open  arms  ?  No,  tl^e 
God  that  fostered  black  and  white  alike,  rich  and 
poor,  was  not  known  to  father  these  poor  fugi- 
tives, so  lately  out  of  bondage.  The  holy  portals 
were  closed  in  their  faces,  and  dark-skinned  pas- 
tors, not  yet  able  to  put  the  "  H  "  in  the  educa- 
tional shibboleth,  drew  aside  their  robes  as  they 
passed  them. 

Opposition  was  even  expressed  to  their  fellow- 
ship with  the  Christian  body.  It  reached  its 
height  when,  on  a  memorable  Sunday — a  quar- 
terly meeting  day  in  fact,  three  families  of  the 
despised,  presented  themselves  for  membership 
in  the  Wesley  an  chapel.  The  spirit  had  been 
running  high  that  day,  and  there  had  been  much 
shouting  and  praising  the  Lord  for  his  goodness. 
But  at  this  act  of  innocent  audacity,  the  whole 
tone  of  the  meeting  changed.  From  violent  joy, 
it  became  one  of  equally  violent  anger  and  con- 
tempt. These  outcast  families  seeking  God,  had 
stepped  upon  the  purple  robes  of  these  black  aris- 
tocrats, and  they  were  as  one  for  defiance. 


THE  CONTKABANDS  163 

One  aged  woman,  trembling  with  anger  and 
religious  excitement,  tottered  up,  and,  starting 
for  the  door,  hurled  this  brief  condemnation  of 
the  culprits  who  dared  desire  membership  in  her 
church :  "  Wy,  befo'  I'd  see  dis  chu'ch,  dis  chu'ch 
dat  we  free  people  built  give  up  to  dese  conter- 
bandsj  I'd  see  hit  to'  down,  brick  by  brick." 

She  hurried  down  the  stairs,  and  a  number  fol- 
lowed  her.  But  some  stayed  to  remonstrate  with 
the  unreasoning  contrabands.  They  were  told 
to  form  a  church  of  their  own  and  to  worship  to- 
gether. 

"  But,"  said  their  spokesman,  who  had  preached 
down  on  the  plantation,  "  why  n't  we  jes'  ez  well 
wo'ship  wid  you  ?    We's  all  colo'ed  togethah." 

The  pastor  tried  in  vain  to  show  them  the  dif- 
ference between  people  who  had  been  freed  three 
or  four  years  before  and  those  just  made  free,  but 
somehow,  the  contraband  and  none  of  his  com- 
pany could  see  it,  and  the  meeting  was  broken  up. 
The  rejected  Christians,  seeking  their  poor  shan- 
ties in  amazement,  and  the  aristocrats  gathering 
to  talk  among  themselves  over  the  invasion  of 
their  temple. 

With  both  white  and  black  against  them,  it 
could  not  be  long  before  the  bad  feeling  against 
these  poor  people  must  break  out  into  open  at- 
tack. Theirs  was  a  helpless  condition,  but  they 
were  not  entirely  alone.     In  all  the  town,  they 


164  THE  FANATICS 

had  no  stronger  friend  than  Stephen  Yan  Doren. 
A  Southerner  by  birth  and  education,  he  under- 
stood these  people,  who  had  for  two  centuries 
been  the  particular  wards  of  the  South.  While 
he  had  no  faith  in  the  ultimate  success  of  the 
Union  arms,  and  believed  that  all  these  blacks 
must  eventually  go  back  into  slavery  whence  they 
had  come,  yet  he  reasoned  that  they  were  there, 
and  such  being  the  case,  all  that  was  possible, 
ought  to  be  done  for  them. 

The  negroes  were  quick  to  recognize  a  friend, 
and  his  house  soon  became  the  court  to  which 
they  took  all  their  grievances.  He  had  been 
keeping  indoors,  but  now  he  began  to  circulate 
among  his  Southern  friends,  and  to  do  what  he 
could  to  help  his  poor  proteges. 

It  was  then  that  the  first  inklings  of  a  contem- 
plated attack  upon  them  came  to  his  ears.  Some 
of  the  citizens  of  Dorbury,  inspired  by  the  public 
spirit  which  barroom  speeches  arouse,  had  de- 
termined to  rise  and  throw  off  the  stigma  of  ne- 
gro invasion.  The  embers  of  the  people's  passions 
had  long  smouldered,  and  when  a  pseudo-poli- 
tician in  the  glow  of  drink  had  advised  them  to 
rise  and  drive  the  black  plague  beyond  their 
borders,  they  had  determined  to  do  so. 

The  conduct  of  the  whole  matter  had  been  put 
into  the  hands  of  Eaymond  Stothard,  for  the 
politician  declined  to  lead  such  an  assault,  upon 


THE  COISTTEABANDS  165 

the  plea  that  it  was  hardly  the  proper  thing  for 
a  man  who  aspired  to  the  legislature. 

Stothard  was  chosen,  first,  because  he  was  the 
brother  of  the  prosecuting  attorney,  which  would 
give  the  movement  prestige,  and  next,  because  he 
was  capable  of  doing  anything  when  he  was 
drunk.  He  usually  was  drunk  or  becoming  so. 
He  was  drunk  when  he  made  the  speech  which 
instantly  made  him  the  leader  of  the  aggressive 
movement. 

"  Gen'lemen,"  he  said,  "  you  all  know  me,  and 
you  know  that  I  ain't  the  man  to  try  to  lead  you 
into  an  unjust  fight,  now  am  I  ?  "  He  was  al- 
most plaintive  and  the  crowd  about  him  cried, 
"  No,  no  !  " 

"Thank  you,"  he  went  on,  swaying  at  his 
table.  "  Thanks,  I'm  glad  to  see  that  you  per — 
preciate  my  motives.  You  all  know  my  brother, 
he's  a  straight — straight  man,  ain't  he  ?  You  all 
know  Philip  Stothard.  I^ow  I'm  a  peaceable 
man,  I  am.  But  to-night,  I  say  our  rights  and 
liberties  are  being  invaded,  that's  what  they  are. 
All  the  niggers  in  the  South  are  crowding  in 
on  us,  and  pretty  soon,  we  won't  have  a  place  to 
lay  our  heads.  They'll  undercharge  the  laborer 
and  drive  him  out  of  house  and  home.  They 
will  live  on  leavings,  and  the  men  who  are  eat- 
ing white  bread  and  butter  will  have  to  get  down 
to  the  level  of  these  black  hounds. 


166  THE  FANATICS 

"  I  don't  like  'em,  anyhow.  'None  of  us  like 
'em.  The  whole  war  is  on  their  account.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  them,  we'd  have  been  friends 
with  the  South  to-day,  but  they've  estranged  us 
from  our  brothers,  rent  the  country  asunder,  and 
now  they're  coming  up  here  to  crowd  us  out  of 
our  towns.  Gentlemen,  I  won't  say  any  more. 
It  shall  never  be  said  that  Eay  Stothard  was  in- 
strumental in  beginning  a  revolt  against  law  and 
order.  My  brother's  prosecuting  attorney,  you 
know,  and  we  stand  for  the  integrity  of  the  law. 
But  if  I  had  my  way,  I'd  take  force,  and  clear 
this  town  of  every  nigger  in  it.  Gentlemen,  drink 
with  me." 

His  final  remark  was  the  most  eloquent  plea 
he  could  have  made.  The  gentlemen  drank  with 
Mr.  Stothard  and  voted  his  plan  for  saving  their 
homes  and  workshops  a  good  one. 

One  man  in  passing  had  heard  the  sound  of 
speechmaking  within,  and  out  of  idle  curiosity 
had  paused  at  the  saloon  door  in  time  to  hear 
Stothard's  stirring  remarks.  Stephen  Yan  Doren 
listened  with  horror  to  what  the  drunken  rowdy 
proposed,  and  then  went  with  all  speed  to  his 
brother. 

"  You're  too  sensible  a  man,  Yan  Doren,"  said 
the  prosecuting  attorney,  "  to  believe  that  I  have 
anything  to  do  with  this  matter  or  would  coun- 
tenance it.     But  I  can  do  nothing  whatever  with 


THE  CONTRABANDS  167 

this  brother  of  mine ;  there  is  only  one  thing  to 
do,  and  that  is  to  warn  the  negroes.'' 

*'  They  are  not  used  to  fighting  for  themselves. 
They  would  be  as  helpless  as  children  and  could 
be  killed  like  sheep  in  a  pen." 

"  They  have  their  freedom,  taken  as  you  and  I 
both  believe,  illegally,  let  them  rise  to  the  occa- 
sion which  liberty  demands,"  and  so  the  lawyer 
dismissed  the  subject,  although  Yan  Doren  gave 
back  the  answer  that  what  these  blacks  had  to 
meet  was  not  the  result  of  liberty,  but  the 
mockery  of  it. 

Leaving  Philip  Stothard's  house,  Stephen  Yan 
Doren  went  his  way,  torn  between  conflicting 
opinions  as  to  his  duty.  Would  he  be  proving  a 
traitor  to  his  fellow-citizens  if  he  told  the  ne- 
groes of  the  designs  against  them?  But  were 
these  men  of  the  lowest  social  stratum,  loafers, 
ignoramuses  and  fanatics  his  fellow-citizens  ? 
Was  it  not  right  that  these  poor  fellows,  slaves 
as  they  had  been,  and  would  be  again  doubtless, 
should  be  allowed  the  chance  of  defending  them- 
selves against  assault  ?  He  argued  with  himself 
long  and  deeply  that  night,  and  in  the  end  he  de- 
cided that  the  blacks  must  be  warned.  He  did 
not  know  when  the  attack  would  take  place. 
Indeed,  he  felt  sure  that  it  would  wait  upon  in- 
spiration and  opportunity,  but  the  intended 
victims  could  be  put  upon  their  guard  and  then 


168  THE  FAISTATICS 

be  left  to  look  out  themselves.     He  could  do  no 
more.     Perhaps  he  had  already  done  too  much. 

On  the  morrow,  he  saw  some  of  the  blacks, 
and  after  cautioning  them  to  secrecy  as  to  what 
they  should  hear,  told  them  of  their  danger. 
They  heard  him  with  horror  and  lamentation 
They  were  bitterly  disappointed.  Was  this  the 
freedom  for  which  they  had  toiled  ?  Was  this  the 
welcome  they  received  from  a  free  state  ?  They 
already  knew  how  the  church  had  greeted  them. 
But  they  were  the  more  shocked  because  they 
found  out  for  the  first  time  that  politics  could  be 
as  hard  as  religion. 

One  advantage  which  the  negroes  were  to 
have  was  that  in  the  sudden  passion  against  their 
race  the  whites  made  no  distinction  as  to  bond 
or  free,  manumitted  or  contraband.  This,  of 
necessity,  drew  them  all  together,  and  they  grew 
closer  to  each  other  in  sympathy  than  they  had 
yet  known. 

The  drawing  together  was  not  one  of  spirit 
only,  but  of  fact.  They  began  to  have  meetings 
at  night  after  the  warning,  and  a  code  of  signals 
was  arranged  to  call  all  of  them  together  at  the 
first  sign  of  danger. 

Meanwhile,  Stothard  and  his  confederates,  be- 
lieving that  all  their  workings  had  been  done  in 
profoundest  secrecy,  only  waited  an  opportunity 
to  strike  effectively  and  finally. 


THE  CONTEABANDS  169 

The  leader's  first  open  act  occurred  one  day 
when  he  seemed  to  have  found  an  audience  of 
sympathizers.  He  was  strolling  along  busy  with 
his  usual  employment  of  doing  nothing,  when  he 
noticed  a  crowd  gathered  at  a  point  upon  the 
street  that  led  from  the  railway  station.  He 
sauntered  towards  it,  but  quickened  his  pace  when 
he  found  that  the  centre  of  the  group  was  a 
small  family  of  black  folk  who  had  just  arrived 
from  some  place  south  of  the  river.  There  were 
a  father  and  mother,  both  verging  on  old  age,  a 
stalwart,  strong-limbed  son,  apparently  about 
twenty,  and  two  younger  children.  They  were 
all  ragged,  barefoot  and  unkempt.  They  had 
paused  to  inquire  the  way  to  the  negro  portion 
of  the  town,  and  immediately  the  people,  some 
with  animosity,  some  with  amusement,  had 
gathered  around  them. 

"What's  all  this?"  asked  the  attorney's 
brother,  as  he  reached  the  group.  None  of  the 
whites  vouchsafed  him  an  answer,  and  he  turned 
his  attention  to  the  negroes. 

"  More  niggers,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Why  in  hell 
don't  you  people  stay  where  you  belong  ?  " 

The  blacks  eyed  him  in  silence. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  when  I  talk  to  you  ?" 
He  took  a  step  forward,  and  the  outcasts  cowered 
before  him,  all  save  the  son.  He  did  not  move  a 
step  and  there  was  a  light  in  his  eye  that  was 


iro  THE  FANATICS 

not  good  to  see.  It  was  the  glare  of  an  animal 
brought  to  bay.  Stothard  saw  it  and  advanced 
no  further,  but  went  on. 

"If  I  had  you  across  the  line,  I'd  teach  you 
manners."     The  old  woman  began  to  cry. 

"  We  come  up  hyeah,"  said  the  young  negro, 
"  'cause  we  hyeahed  it  was  a  free  state." 

"  It's  free  for  white  people,  not  for  niggers." 

"  We  hyeahed  it  was  free  fu'  evahbody,  dat's 
de  reason  we  come,  me  an'  mammy  an'  pappy 
an'  de  chillun.  We  ain't  a  bothahin'  nobody. 
We  jes'  wants  to  fin'  some  of  ouah  own  people." 

"  There's  enough  of  your  people  here  now,  and 
too  many,  and  we  don't  want  any  more.  You'd 
better  go  back  where  you  come  from." 

"  We  cain't  go  back  thaih.  Hit's  been  a  long 
ways  a  comin',  an'  we's  'bout  wo'  out." 

"  That's  none  of  our  business  ;  back  you  go. 
Gentlemen,  unless  we  put  our  foot  down  now, 
we  shall  be  overrun  by  these  people.  I  call  you 
to  act  now.  Turn  them  back  at  the  portals  of 
the  city.  Ohio  as  a  state  and  Dorbury  as  a  town 
does  not  want  these  vagabonds." 

Unseen  by  Stothard,  another  man  attracted  by 
the  gathering  had  joined  the  crowd,  and  now  his 
voice  broke  the  silence.  "  Who  made  you,  Eay 
Stothard,  the  spokesman  for  the  people  of 
Ohio?" 

The  aristocratic  loafer  turned  to  meet  the  eye 


THE  COISTTRABANDS  lYl 

of  Stephen  Yan  Doren,  and  his  face  went  red  in 
a  second. 

"  I  don't  know  what  right  you've  got  to  speak, 
Yan  Doren,  you've  done  everything  you  could  to 
hurt  the  Union." 

"  It  is  to  the  Union's  greatest  discredit  that  it 
has  such  men  as  you  on  its  side." 

"  So  you're  in  favor  of  letting  the  niggers  over- 
run the  town  ?  " 

"  I'm  in  favor  of  fair  play,  and  I  intend  to  help 
these  people  find  their  fellows." 

"  Humph,  what  are  you  anyhow  ?  First  a 
copperhead,  then  a  rebel,  then  the  champion  of 
contrabands.  You're  neither  fish,  flesh,  fowl  nor 
good  red  herring." 

"  Whatever  I  may  be,  I'm  not  a  conspirator." 
Stothard  blanched  at  the  word.  "Nor,"  went 
on  the  old  man,  "am  I  a  barroom  orator  and 
leader  of  ruffians.  Come,  boys,"  he  said  address- 
ing the  negroes,  and  they  grinned  broadly  and 
hopefully  at  the  familiar  conduct  and  manner  of 
address  of  the  South  which  they  knew  and  loved. 
Away  they  went  behind  Yan  Doren. 

"  Go  on,  Steve  Yan  Doren,"  Stothard  crowed 
after  the  old  man  like  a  vanquished  cock.  "  But 
you  may  have  more  work  to  do  before  you  get 
through  with  your  nigger  pets." 

"  All  right,"  was  the  sturdy  answer.  "  When- 
ever you  and  your  hounds  come  for  me,  you'll 


172  THE  FANATICS 

find  me  waiting,  and  by  heaven,  you'll  leave  me 
weightier  men  by  a  few  ounces  than  you've  ever 
been  before." 

The  younger  man  attempted  to  raise  a  jeer  as 
the  other  man  passed  down  the  street.  But  the 
crowd  refused  to  join  him.  There  was  something 
too  majestic  in  the  carriage  of  the  old  copper- 
head. He  commanded  an  inevitable,  if  reluctant 
respect.  The  same  independent  habit  of  thought 
and  sturdy  disregard  of  consequences  that  made 
him  a  copperhead,  made  him  a  friend  to  these 
poor  helpless  blacks. 

Stothard,  however,  was  not  done.  He  was  in- 
flamed with  anger  at  his  defeat  and  the  shame 
put  upon  him.  He  hurriedly  left  the  crowd,  and 
went  at  once  to  the  rendezvous  of  his  confeder- 
ates. All  that  day  and  night  he  harangued 
them  as  they  came  in  one  by  one,  setting  before 
them  the  alleged  dangers  of  the  case,  and  paint- 
ing the  affair  of  the  afternoon  in  lurid  colors. 
By  midnight,  drunken  men  who  mistook  intoxi- 
cation for  patriotism,  talked  solemnly  to  each 
other  of  the  *'  Black  invasion,"  and  shook  hands 
in  the  unity  of  determination  to  resent  this  at- 
tack upon  the  dignity  of  the  state. 

All  the  next  day  there  was  an  ominous  quiet 
in  Dorbury.  Men  who  had  no  other  occupation 
than  lounging  about  the  courthouse  corner  and 
in  the  barrooms  were  not  to  be  seen.      There 


THE  CONTKABANDS  173 

were  no  violent  harangues  in  the  livery  stables 
and  groceries.  Mr.  Raymond  Stothard  was  not 
out. 

About  dusk  the  clans  began  to  gather.  One 
by  one  they  came  from  their  holes  and  hiding- 
places  and  made  their  way  to  the  rendezvous. 
Over  their  drinks,  they  talked  in  whispers  and 
the  gaslight  flared  on  drawn,  swollen,  terrible 
faces.  Their  general  had  found  the  wherewithal 
to  buy  liquor  and  he  plied  them  well. 

Meanwhile  on  old  McLean  street,  where  stood 
the  house  of  one  of  Dor  bury 's  free  black  citi- 
zens another  gathering  equally  silent,  equally 
stealthy  and  determined  was  taking  place.  The 
signal  had  gone  forth,  the  warning  had  been  re- 
ceived and  free  negro  and  contraband  were 
drawing  together  for  mutual  protection.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken  among  them.  It  was  not  the 
time  for  talk.  But  they  huddled  together  in  the 
half-lit  room  and  only  their  hard,  labored  breath- 
ing broke  the  silence.  To  the  freemen,  it  meant 
the  maintenance  of  all  that  they  had  won  by 
quiet  industry.  To  the  contrabands,  it  meant 
the  life  or  death  of  all  their  hopes  of  manhood. 
Now  all  artificial  lines  were  broken  down,  and 
all  of  them  were  brothers  by  the  tie  of  necessity. 
Contraband  and  the  man  who  a  few  days  ago 
had  looked  down  upon  him  with  supreme  con- 
tempt, now  pressed  shoulder  to  shoulder  a  com- 


174  THE  FANATICS 

mon  grejness  in  their  faces,  the  same  black  dread 
in  their  hearts.  In  the  back  room  sick  with 
fear,  waited  the  women  and  children.  Upon  the 
issue  of  the  night  depended  all  that  they  had 
prayed  for.  Was  it  to  be  peace  and  home  or 
exile  and  slavery  ?  Their  mother  hearts  yearned 
over  the  children  who  clustered  helpless  about 
their  feet.  *'  If  not  for  us,  God,  for  these,  our 
little  ones,"  they  prayed.  Their  minds  went 
back  to  the  plantation,  its  pleasures  and  its  pains. 
They  remembered  all.  There  had  been  the 
dances  and  the  frolics,  and  the  meetings,  but 
these  paled  into  insignificance  before  the  memory 
of  the  field,  the  overseer  and  the  lash.  Often, 
oh,  too  often,  they  had  bared  their  backs  to  the 
cruel  thongs.  Day  by  day  they  had  toiled  and 
sweated  under  the  relentless  sun.  But  must 
these,  the  products  of  their  poor  bodies,  do  like- 
wise ?  Must  they  too,  toil  without  respite,  and 
labor  without  reward  ?  They  clasped  their 
children  in  their  arms  with  a  hopelessness  that 
was  almost  aggression. 

The  little  black  babies  that  night  did  not 
know  why  their  mothers  hugged  them  with  such 
terrible  intensity  or  hushed  them  with  such  fierce 
tenderness  when  they  cried. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  the  whisper  ran 
round  the  circle  in  the  front  room,  "  They  are 
coming,  they  are  coming  I "  and  the  men  drew 


THE  CONTEABANDS  175 

themselves  closer  together.  The  sound  of  the 
shuffling  of  many  feet  and  the  noisy  song  of  a 
drunken  mob  awoke  the  echoes  of  the  quiet 
street.  Then,  of  a  sudden,  the  songs  ceased  as  if 
some  authoritative  voice  had  compelled  silence. 
Nearer  and  nearer  moved  the  feet,  softer  now, 
but  with  drunken  uncertainty.  They  paused  at 
the  gate.  The  lock  clicked.  The  men  wdthin 
the  room  were  tense  as  bended  steel.  Then 
came  a  thunderous  knock  at  the  door.  No 
answer. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  apparently  a  silent 
conference.  The  rioters  had  sought  several  other 
suspected  houses,  the  chapel  among  them,  and 
found  them  empty.  Here  then,  was  the  place 
which  they  had  definitely  settled  as  the  negroes' 
stronghold. 

"  Open  in  the  name  of  the  law,"  came  a  voice. 

The  blacks  huddled  closer  together.  Then 
came  a  blow  upon  the  door  as  from  the  stock  of 
a  gun. 

"  Gently,"  said  the  voice,  "  gently."  But  the 
spirit  of  violence  having  once  been  given  rein 
could  not  be  controlled,  and  blow  after  blow 
rained  upon  the  none  too  strong  door,  until  it 
yielded  and  fell  in  with  a  crash.  But  here,  the 
mob  found  themselves  confronted  by  a  surprise. 
Instead  of  a  cowering  crowd  of  helpless  men, 
they  found   themselves   confronted   by   a  solid 


176  THE  FANATICS 

black  wall  of  desperate  men  who  stood  their 
ground  and  fought  like  soldiers.  At  first,  it  was 
fist,  stave,  club  and  the  swift,  silent  knife,  and 
only  the  gasp  of  forced  breath  and  the  groan  of 
some  fallen  man  told  that  the  terrible  fight  went 
on.  Then  a  solitary  shot  rang  out,  and  the  fusil- 
lade began.  The  blacks  began  to  retreat,  be- 
cause they  had  few  weapons,  putting  their 
women-folks  behind  them.  Gradually,  the  white 
horde  poured  into  the  room  and  filled  it. 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  Stothard's  voice  from  the 
rear,  "  rush  them  !  "  and  he  sprang  forward.  But 
a  black  face  confronted  him,  its  features  distorted 
and  its  eyes  blazing.  It  was  the  face  of  the  con- 
traband boy  whom  he  had  abused  the  day  be- 
fore. A  knife  flashed  in  the  dim  light,  and  in  a 
moment  more  was  buried  in  the  leader's  heart. 
The  shriek,  half  of  fear,  half  of  surprise  which 
was  on  his  lips,  died  there,  and  he  fell  forward 
with  a  groan,  while  the  black  man  sped  from  the 
room.  The  wild-eyed  boy  who  went  out  into 
the  night  to  be  lost  forever,  killed  Stothard,  not 
because  he  was  fighting  for  a  principle,  but  be- 
cause the  white  man  had  made  his  mother  cry 
the  day  before.     His  ideas  were  still  primitive. 

The  rout  of  the  negroes  was  now  complete, 
and  they  fled  in  all  directions.  Some  ran  aivay, 
only  to  return  when  the  storm  had  passed ; 
others,  terrified  by  the  horror  of  the  night,  went, 


THE  CO:t^TEABANDS  177 

never  to  return,  and  their  homes  are  occupied  in 
Dorbury  to-day  by  the  men  who  drove  them 
from  them. 

The  whites,  too,  had  had  enough,  and  their 
leader  being  killed,  they  slunk  away  with  his 
body  into  the  night  which  befriended  them. 


CHAPTEK  XY 

LICENSE   OR  LIBEETY 

In  the  days  that  ensued  after  the  mustering 
out  of  Tom's  regiment  neither  he  nor  Dorbury 
had  time  for  idleness.  The  events  attending  the 
conflict  both  in  the  field  and  at  home  had  fol- 
lowed each  other  too  swiftly  for  that.  Tom 
had  found  military  service  under  the  government 
in  a  capacity  that  gave  him  larger  experience  in 
the  world  of  men.  His  letters  had  given  his 
father  exceeding  joy  and  Mary  and  Nannie  were 
inordinately  proud  of  him.  His  messages  to 
them  were  read  over  and  over  again  as  the  girls 
prepared  themselves  for  sleep  or  sat  half-robed 
upon  their  bedsides. 

The  gossips  had  still  spared  the  brother  the 
story  of  the  breaking  up  of  his  home  and  he 
went  on  with  his  work  happy  in  his  unconscious- 
ness. When  the  final  reorganization  of  the  First 
took  place  in  November,  he  relinquished  his 
other  duties  and  joined  his  comrades  at  Louis- 
ville, whence  they  set  out  on  their  journey  fur- 
ther South. 

178 


LICEKSE  OR  LIBERTY  179. 

In  the  meantime,  Dorbury  had  continued  to 
seethe  as  before,  with  the  conflicting  elements 
within  its  narrow  borders.  Patriotism  and  prej- 
udice ran  riot  side  by  side,  and  it  was  a  hard  race 
between  them.  One  set  of  men  talked  of  the 
glory  of  righteous  war,  while  another  deplored 
the  shedding  of  fraternal  blood.  The  war  Re- 
publicans hurled  invectives  at  the  peace  advo- 
cates, and  the  latter  hurled  back  invectives  and 
reproaches. 

Before  the  First  went  back  into  the  field  an 
incident  occurred  which  showed  the  temper  of 
both  parties.  A  meeting  was  being  held  in  the 
square  in  front  of  the  courthouse.  Its  object 
was  to  protest  against  what  the  opponents  of  the 
war  called  the  attempted  coercion  of  free  citi- 
zens. Mr.  Yallandigham,  whose  position,  both 
as  a  prominent  citizen  and  former  congressman 
gave  weight  to  whatever  he  said,  had  spoken  and 
the  hearts  of  his  hearers  were  inflamed  with  bit- 
terness. Another  speaker,  half-hearted  and 
little  trusted  rose  to  address  the  assembly.  He 
was  a  fiery  demagogue  and  depended  for  his  in- 
fluence upon  his  power  to  work  upon  the  passions 
of  the  lower  element.  His  audience  knew  this. 
He  knew  it,  and  for  an  instant,  paused  in  em- 
barrassment. 

Just  at  that  moment,  "  Nigger  Ed  "  strolled  up 
and  joined  the  crowd.     The  eye  of  the  orator 


180  THE  FAN^ATICS 

took  him  in,  and  lighted  with  sudden  inspiration. 
Here  was  all  the  text  he  needed.  Eaising  his 
tall,  spare  form,  he  pointed  in  silence  until  every 
face  was  turned  upon  the  negro.  Then  he  said, 
"  Gentlemen,  it  is  for  such  as  that  and  worse  that 
you  are  shedding  your  brothers'  blood."  With- 
out another  word,  he  sat  down.  It  was  the 
most  convincing  speech  he  had  ever  made.  The 
unhappy  advent  of  the  negro  had  put  a  power 
into  the  words  of  a  man  who  otherwise  would 
have  been  impotent.  It  was  the  occasion  and 
the  man  to  take  advantage  of  it.  It  may  have 
been  clap-trap.  But  in  the  heated  spirit  of  the 
time,  it  was  a  shot  that  went  straight  to  the 
mark.  The  crowd  began  to  murmur  and  then 
broke  into  hisses  and  jeers.  Eude  jests  with 
more  of  anger  than  humor  in  them  were  bandied 
back  and  forth. 

One  side  was  furious  that  blood  should  be 
spilled  for  such  as  the  negro  bell-ringer,  while 
the  other  was  equally  incensed  at  being  accused 
of  championing  his  cause. 

"  Nigger-stealers !  Abolitionists ! "  shouted  one. 

"  Copperheads ! "  shouted  the  other,  while 
some  of  them  tried  fruitlessly  to  explain  that 
they  had  no  interest  in  niggers. 

"  He  even  wears  your  army  cap  ! "  some  one 
cried.     "  Why  don't  you  give  him  a  gun  ?  " 

The  stentorian  voice  of  Bradford  Waters  rose 


LICENSE  OE  LIBEETY  181 

over  the  storm.  "  Your  friends,  the  rebels,"  he 
said,  "  have  got  the  niggers  digging  trenches, 
and  tilling  the  fields  at  home  to  help  them  in 
food." 

"  Ah,  that's  their  business,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  don't  know  that  a  gun  is  any  better  than  a 
spade." 

Back  and  forth  the  controversy  raged,  each 
party  growing  hotter  and  hotter.  Negro  Ed 
stood  transfixed  at  the  tempest  he  had  raised. 
He  looked  from  face  to  face  but  in  none  of  them 
found  a  friend.  Both  sides  hated  him  and  his 
people.  He  was  like  a  shuttlecock.  He  was  a 
reproach  to  one  and  an  insult  to  the  other. 

"  Gent'men,  gent'men,"  he  began  to  stammer 
to  the  men  about  him  who  were  hustling  him. 

"  Knock  him  down,  he's  been  serving  the  men 
who  fought  our  brothers." 

"Tear  off  his  cap,  the  black  hound,  it's  the 
same  our  soldiers  wear." 

"  Kill  him ;  if  it  wasn't  for  his  kind,  we'd  have 
had  no  trouble  !  " 

"  What's  he  doing  here,  anyhow  ?  This  is  a 
white  man's  Union.     Down  with  niggers  !  " 

And  so  the  bewildered  black  man  was  like  to 
be  roughly  handled  by  both  parties,  but  that  an 
opportune  interruption  occurred.  The  gavel 
sounded  sharp  and  harsh  and  some  one  was 
speaking. 


182  THE  FAISTATICS 

"  Let  Ed  alone,"  the  speaker  said.  "  He  has 
done  nothing  to  you.  He  has  rung  our  bells, 
followed  our  fires,  amused  our  children  and  al- 
ways been  harmless." 

The  crowd  began  to  remember  that  all  this 
was  true. 

"  He  is  not  his  people,  nor  the  father  of  them. 
The  trouble  is  not  with  him  but  with  us.  It's 
not  without,  it's  within.  It's  not  what  he  is  but 
what  we  believe." 

Stephen  Yan  Doren's  voice  had  arrested  the 
activities  of  the  mob  and  they  gave  him  absolute 
attention.  In  the  respite,  the  negro,  glad  of  his 
release,  slipped  away  with  the  insulted  cap  in  his 
hand.  What  he  felt  is  hardly  worth  recording. 
He  was  so  near  the  animal  in  the  estimation  of 
his  fellows  (perhaps  too  near  in  reality)  that  he 
could  be  presumed  to  have  really  few  mental  im- 
pressions. He  was  frightened,  yes.  He  was 
hurt,  too.  But  no  one  would  have  given  him 
credit  for  that  much  of  human  feeling.  They  had 
kicked  a  dog  and  the  dog  had  gone  away.  That 
was  all.  Yet  Ed  was  not  all  the  dog.  His  feel- 
ing was  that  of  a  child  who  has  tried  to  be  good 
and  been  misunderstood.  He  should  not  have 
felt  so,  though,  for  he  knew  Dorbury  and  the 
times  by  an  instinct  that  was  truer  than  con- 
scious analysis,  and  he  should  have  known,  if  he 
did  not,  that  the  people  who  mistreated  him,  were 


LICENSE  OR  LIBERTY  183 

not  sane  and  accountable.  But  the  under  dog 
does  not  stop  to  philosophize  about  his  position. 
So  Ed  went  his  way  in  anger  and  in  sorrow. 

After  Yan  Doren's  interruption,  the  meeting 
went  on  in  a  somewhat  more  moderate  strain, 
though  the  speeches  that  were  made  were  bitter 
enough.  A  new,  but  vigorous  and  efficient  gov- 
ernor was  in  the  chair,  and  at  times  the  people 
chafed  under  the  enforcement  of  measures  which, 
in  a  state  of  war,  he  deemed  necessary.  No  great 
disaster  had  yet  come  to  their  own  troops  to 
unite  the  people  in  one  compact  body,  or  to  make 
them  look  farther  than  themselves  or  their 
fancied  personal  grievances.  The  sight  of  the 
wounded  and  the  news  of  the  dead  had  not  yet 
thrilled  them  into  the  spirit  for  self-sacrifice. 
This  was  to  come  later.  It  was  to  come  when 
the  soil  of  the  state  was  threatened  by  hostile  in- 
vasion ;  when  Pittsburg  Landing  had  told  its 
bloody  story,  and  the  gloom  of  death  hung  over 
their  homes. 

But  now  all  was  different.  After  the  first 
enthusiasm  for  war  had  passed,  a  reaction  had 
set  in.  Recruiting  went  on  slowly,  while  the 
citizens  looked  on  with  but  languid  interest.  On 
the  other  hand,  they  flamed  with  anger  at  every 
hint  that  their  personal  rights  were  being  trampled 
on.  When  men,  lacking  bo^h  honor  and  loyalty, 
wrote  seditious  letters ;  when  others,  more  earnest 


184:  THE  FAKATICS 

than  prudent,  talked  in  the  public  highways  or 
harangued  from  platforms,  it  was  all  free  speech, 
the  fetich  so  dear  to  American  worshippers,  and 
they  resented  any  attempt  to  restrain  or  abridge 
it. 

A  man  might  live  and  work  under  the  flag 
whose  soldiers  he  counselled  to  desert.  That  was 
all  within  his  private  right.  Another  might 
assail  the  motives  and  powers  of  the  government 
under  which  he  lived,  sneer  at  its  chief  execu- 
tive, and  pour  out  the  vials  of  his  wrath  against 
the  unholy  war  which  the  Union  was  waging, 
and  still,  it  was  only  his  right.  Any  attempt  to 
check  disaffection  within  its  borders  was  con- 
strued into  coercion.  Where  now  and  then, 
some  too  bold  speaker  was  arrested  by  the  au- 
thorities, war  Democrat,  and  peace  Democrat 
united  in  denouncing  the  act  as  high-handed  and 
unwarranted,  and  Kepublican  joined  with  them 
or  was  silent. 

Upon  one  thing  they  were  all  united,  and  that 
was  their  hatred  and  disdain  for  the  hapless  race 
which  had  caused  the  war.  Upon  its  shoulders 
fell  all  the  resentment  and  each  individual  stood 
for  his  race.  If  their  boys  suffered  hardships  in 
the  field,  they  felt  that  in  some  manner  they 
avenged  them  by  firing  a  negro's  home  or  chas- 
ing him  along  the  dark  streets  as  he  made  his 
way  home  from  church.    It  became  an  act  of 


LICENSE  OR  LIBERTY  185 

patriotism  to  push  a  black  woman  from  the  side- 
walks. 

It  only  needed  the  knowledge  that  free  men  of 
color  had  offered  their  services  to  the  state  to 
bring  out  a  storm  of  invective  and  abuse  against 
the  "  impudent  niggers."  There  were  some  who 
expressed  fear  that  the  governor  might  yield  to 
their  plea,  and  threatened  if  he  did,  that  they 
would  call  their  sons  and  brothers  from  the 
army,  and  resent  the  insult  by  withholding  all 
aid  from  the  Union  arms.  But  they  need  have 
had  no  fear  of  their  governor.  Strong  as  he 
was  and  independent,  he  was  too  wise  a  man  not 
to  know  and  to  respect  the  trend  of  popular 
sentiment,  and  he  heard  with  unyielding  heart 
the  prayer  of  the  negroes  to  be  put  in  the  blue. 
But  the  time  did  come  when  the  despised  race 
was  emancipated  and  they  were  accepted  in  the 
field  as  something  other  than  scullions.  The 
time  came,  yes,  but  this  governor  was  not  one  of 
the  men  who  helped  to  hasten  it.  It  may  have 
been  his  personal  feeling,  rather  than  his  ac- 
quiescence to  the  will  of  the  people  that  prompted 
his  reply  to  the  Massachusetts  recruiting  agent. 
The  New  England  commonwealth  was  recruit- 
ing her  black  regiments  and  was  drawing  men 
of  color  from  every  state.  When  the  chief 
executive  of  Ohio  was  consulted,  he  was  so  far 
from  objecting  to  the  use  of  his  negroes  by  an- 


186  THE  FANATICS 

other  state  that  he  expressed  himself  to  the  effect 
that  he  would  be  glad  if  they  would  take  "  every 
damned  nigger  out  of  the  state."  It  may  have 
been  irritation  at  the  anxiety  and  annoyance 
that  this  unwelcome  population  had  caused  the 
good  governor  which  brought  forth  this  strong 
expression.  Whether  it  was  this  or  not,  the  fact 
remains  that  many  black  men  of  Ohio  went  into 
the  Massachusetts  regiments,  and  when  they  had 
made  for  themselves  a  record  that  shamed  con- 
tempt, it  was  to  that  state  that  popular  belief 
gave  the  honor  of  their  deeds. 

This  forecasting  of  events  would  be  entirely 
out  of  place  but  that  it  serves  in  some  manner  to 
show  the  spirit  of  the  times  in  a  loyal  and  non- 
slaveholding  state  at  a  crucial  moment  of  the  na- 
tion's life ;  it  was  a  moment  when  only  a  spark 
was  needed  to  light  the  w^hole  magazine  of  dis- 
content and  blow  doubt  and  vacillation  into  a 
conflagration  of  disloyalty. 

The  spark  was  near  being  supplied  on  a  Mon- 
day night  in  May.  Upon  the  flint  of  Dorbury's 
public  pride  and  prejudice  the  blow  was  struck 
and  for  a  time  the  flash  seemed  imminent.  For 
a  long  time  a  brave  and  rugged  citizen  of  the 
little  town,  a  man  having  the  courage  of  his  con- 
victions and  deeply  trusted  by  his  fellow-men, 
had  been  outspoken  in  his  denunciation  of  the 
war.     Wherever  he  was,  he  did  not  fear  to  ex- 


LICENSE  OR  LIBERTY  187 

press  his  belief  in  its  illegality  and  unrighteous- 
ness. He  was  a  strong  man  and  an  earnest  one, 
and  in  his  strength  and  earnestness  lay  his  power 
over  his  fellow-men.  He  had  represented  them 
in  Congress  and  he  had  done  well.  They  believed 
in  him,  and  now  when  he  dared  to  say  of  the 
nation  struggling  for  its  very  life  that  it  was 
wrong,  he  found  many  followers,  though  some, 
like  Bradford  Waters,  had  already  fallen  from 
Yallandigham's  side.  For  a  while,  he  went  his 
way  unmolested,  until  one  speech,  a  thought  too 
bold  in  expression,  brought  down  upon  him  the 
wrath — a  wrath  rather  restraining  than  vindic- 
tive— of  the  government. 

It  was  near  midnight  when  a  small  company 
of  soldiers  from  Cincinnati  went  to  the  door  of 
Yallandigham's  Dorbury  home.  The  inmates  of 
the  house  were  abed,  and  all  was  darkness  and  si- 
lence. There  was  no  reply  to  the  thunderous  sum- 
mons on  the  panels,  some  inkling  of  the  object  of 
this  midnight  visit  having  leaked  out  or  been 
suspected.  The  summons  was  repeated  and 
while  the  men  talked  in  low  whispers  below,  a 
head  was  put  out  of  an  upstairs  window  and  a 
voice  called  aloud  some  apparently  meaningless 
words,  which,  however,  were  construed  into  a 
signal  for  aid.  From  this  time,  the  soldiers  de- 
layed no  longer,  for  in  the  present  state  of  feel- 
ing the  approach  of   reenforcements  to  those 


188  THE  FANATICS 

within  would  possibly  result  in  bloodshed.  This 
they  were  anxious  to  avoid,  so  making  their  way 
into  the  house  they  went  from  room  to  room, 
frequently  having  to  break  open  locked  and 
barred  doors  until  they  found  the  object  of  their 
search,  and  in  spite  of  threat  and  protest,  hur- 
ried away  with  him  to  a  waiting  train. 

A  small  crowd  collected,  and  followed  the  sol- 
diers to  the  station,  but  with  the  exception  of  a 
stone  occasionally  hurled,  it  confined  itself  to 
threats  and  abuse. 

"  This  will  be  heard  from,"  said  one. 

"  It  will  do  more  to  make  Ohio  fight  against 
the  war  than  anything  else." 

"  Kidnappers !  kidnappers ! "  was  the  cry. 

On  the  morrow  the  excitement  in  Dorbury 
was  intense,  but  history  has  dealt  sufficiently 
with  all  that  was  done  then,  with  the  speeches 
that  were  made,  the  bombastic  letters  that  were 
written — the  damage  that  was  inflicted  upon 
private  property. 

The  town,  iron-clad  in  its  personal  pride,  gave 
itself  up  to  an  orgy  of  disloyalty.  A  tempest  in 
a  teapot,  some  one  will  say.  But  the  spirit  that 
raged  in  the  teapot  showed  the  temper  of  the 
larger  cauldron  which  seethed  over  the  same  fire. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  later  bit  of  work  ?  " 
asked  Da  vies  on  the  way  to  the  office  the  morn- 
ing after  the  arrest. 


LICENSE  OK  LIBEKTY  189 

"I  think  what  I  have  always  thought,  that 
whatever  is  good  for  the  Union  is  right."  But 
his  tone  was  not  so  assured  as  usual. 

"  You  used  to  think  a  great  deal  of  Yalland- 
igham,  though." 

"  In  such  a  time  as  this,  I  have  no  time  for 
personal  feelings.     I  have  said  that  before." 

"  Yes,  it  seems  about  true,  we  all  seem  to  have 
taken  leave  of  our  senses  and  to  have  suspended 
the  operations  both  of  our  country's  constitution 
and  of  our  natural  affections." 

"  It  is  a  strange  time  and  we  must  change  with 
the  times." 

"  It  is  a  horrible,  a  fanatical  time,  and  I  shall 
thank  God  when  it  is  over,  however  the  end 
may  come,  through  Union  or  peaceful  separa- 
tion." 

"  I  would  rather  see  the  country  drenched  in 
blood  than  the  latter." 

"Waters,"  said  Davies  slowly,  as  if  the  light 
were  just  dawning  upon  him,  "  I'm  afraid  you're 
a  fanatic,  I'm  afraid  you're  a  fanatic." 

But  Waters  went  on  moodily  and  did  not 
reply. 


CHAPTEK  XYI 

DOLLY   AND   WALTER 

Down  there  in  Yirginia,  where  Walter  had 
now  settled  into  staying  with  a  certain  self-satis- 
faction, the  tides  of  war  flowed  with  vigor  but 
did  not  reach  and  submerge  the  house  where  he 
kept  the  even  tenor  of  his  days.  There  were,  of 
course,  midnight  visits  at  times  from  the  soldiers 
of  both  sides.  But  the  place  enjoyed  a  peculiar 
exemption  from  molestation  by  either  Confeder- 
ate or  Unionist.  To  the  one,  it  was  the  home  of 
old  Colonel  Stewart,  an  ardent  Southerner.  To 
the  others,  it  was  the  place  of  abode  of  a  paroled 
Union  prisoner.  Walter's  position  was  anoma- 
lous, and  although  he  was  forced  into  it,  he  felt 
keenly  that  he  was  playing  a  double  role.  He 
no  longer  yearned  to  be  with  the  Northern 
forces,  but  would  it  not  be  foolish  to  proclaim 
his  defection  from  the  house  tops  ?  The  South- 
ern soldiers  and  his  neighbors  looked  upon  him 
as  a  Unionist  chafing  at  restraint,  and  they 
laughed  at  him  for  a  caged  bantam.  Had  their 
surmises  been  true,  he  would  have  scorned  their 

190 


DOLLY  AND  WALTER  .  191 

laughter,  but  as  it  was,  it  cut  him  like  a  whip, 
because  to  his  shame,  what  they  laughed  at,  did 
not  exist.  Nor  could  he  tell  them  this.  They 
would  have  thought  even  less  of  him  as  a  rene- 
gade who  changed  his  allegiance  and  views  under 
the  stress  of  imprisonment. 

Now  and  then,  rather  too  frequently  than  he 
cared  to  own,  he  felt  a  thrill  of  envy  for  Nelson 
Etheridge,  who  had  flung  himself  body  and  soul 
into  the  Union  cause,  and  from  whom  he  heard 
occasionally  when  he  rode  over  to  see  Miss 
Etheridge,  or  when  she  and  his  sister  Emily  ex- 
changed visits.  "  Here's  a  man  for  you,"  he 
would  say  to  himself.  "  One  who  has  not  only 
dared,  but  continues  to  dare,  one  who,  placed 
as  I  am  placed,  would  feel  the  galling  bonds  of 
his  restraint  and  do  something  besides  feel  ridic- 
ulously comfortable." 

Perhaps  it  was  because  he  was  so  young — and 
youth  takes  itself  seriously,  being  in  its  own  eyes 
either  God  or  devil,  hero  or  craven — that  Walter 
was  so  hard  upon  his  own  failings.  Sometimes, 
however,  the  truth  that  his  position  was  not  of 
his  own  seeking,  forced  itself  upon  his  mind. 
But  unwilling  to  accept  this  excuse,  he  ques- 
tioned himself  if  he  were  not  glad  that  things 
had  turned  out  as  they  had.  To  this  he  must 
answer  yes,  and  so  he  fell  again  to  cursing  his 
own  complacency. 


192  THE  FAI^ATICS 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  he  lived 
constantly  in  a  state  of  self-condemnation.  Other 
moods  vrere  frequent  and  lasting.  It  took  him  a 
very  short  time  to  fall  into  the  ways  of  a  gentle- 
man farmer,  and  he  took  a  boyish  pleasure  in  di- 
recting the  work  of  the  negroes  about  the  place. 
His  moments  of  greatest  happiness  were  when 
he  was  riding  about  the  fields  on  some  duty  or 
other,  and  he  would  be  joined  by  Emily  or  Miss 
Etheridge.  But  his  greatest  moments  of  depres- 
sion would  follow  when  he  saw,  or  thought  he 
saw,  a  question  or  a  reproach  in  the  girl's  eyes. 

Since  his  arrival  at  his  father's  house,  he  had 
come  to  see  more  and  more  of  this  radiant  South- 
ern beauty,  and  a  frank  friendship  had  grown  up 
between  them.  Friendship,  he  called  it,  for 
cherishing  in  his  heart  the  memory  of  his  regard 
for  Nannie,  he  did  not  dream  that  love  could 
touch  him.  But  slowly  and  reluctantly,  he  be- 
gan to  compare  the  image  in  his  heart  with  the 
fair  girl  at  his  side  and  the  image  suffered. 
Finally,  he  began  to  say  that  Nannie  had  ap- 
pealed strongly  to  his  boyish  fancy,  while  this 
woman  reached  his  maturer  manhood.  In  spite 
of  his  self-questionings,  Walter  failed  to  see  the 
humor  implied  in  the  fact  that  without  any  great 
moral,  mental  or  spiritual  cataclysm,  this  maturer 
manhood  had  come  to  him  in  a  very  short  time 
after  he  had  looked  into  Dolly's  grey  eyes. 


DOLLY  AND  WALTER  193 

She  often  rallied  him  about  their  first  romantic 
meeting,  and  she  would  laugh  the  most  musical 
of  laughs  as  he  told  her  about  his  trepidation  as 
he  approached  the  house.  "When  she  forgot  her- 
self, and  was  merry  among  friends,  she  had  the 
habit  of  falling  into  the  soft-Southern  manner  of 
speech. 

"  It's  right  down  mean,"  she  said  to  Walter  in 
one  of  her  bantering  moods,  "  that  you  didn't  let 
a  body  know  you  were  coming.  I  reckon  you 
and  my  brother  Nelson  would  have  had  a  mighty 
nice  time  together,  but  you  were  entirely  too 
startling." 

"  If  I  had  known  that  I  was  going  to  find 
friends  behind  those  doors,"  he  bent  his  gaze 
tenderly  upon  her,  "  I  should  have  acted  differ- 
ently, knocked  easily,  or  roared  me  as  gently  as 
a  sucking  dove." 

"Poor  Nelson,  I  don't  reckon  many  folks 
would  have  stayed  on  and  dared  capture  like  he 
did ;  but  Nelson  always  was  such  a  daring  boy." 

Walter  winced.  He  thought  he  saw  the  ques- 
tion in  her  eyes,  and  something  veiled  in  what 
she  said. 

Did  she  despise  him  after  all,  and  only  give 
him  the  semblance  of  friendship  for  his  sister's 
sake  ?  The  thought  made  him  miserable,  al- 
though he  never  stopped  to  tell  himself  what 
logical  reason  there  was  for  his  being  miserable, 


194:  THE  FAIS^ATICS 

if  the  girl  whom  he  had  known  but  a  few  weeks 
did  despise  him. 

"  The  Union  has  gained  a  gallant  man  in  your 
brother,"  he  said,  because  his  head  was  in  a 
tumult,  and  he  could  not  say  anything  else.  She 
did  not  recognize  the  commonplaceness  of  his  re- 
mark, however.  It  was  praise  for  her  brother, 
and  so,  sublime. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  have  known  him,"  she 
went  on.  "  You'd  have  been  sure  to  love  him. 
Don't  you  know,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  im- 
pulse, "  since  I've  known  you,  I've  always  thought 
of  you  and  him  in  the  same  company,  marching 
and  fighting  together.  I  don't  care  in  what  uni- 
form, blue  or  grey.  There,  there,  now,"  she 
added,  gravely,  "I've  made  you  feel  bad,  but 
don't  let's  think  of  it.  Yours  is  the  fortune  of 
war,  just  as  whatever  happens  to  him  will  be." 

Walter  was  pale  from  forehead  to  lips  and  it 
was  the  knowledge  of  this  that  checked  the  girl 
with  the  belief  that  she  had  pained  him  by  touch- 
ing the  subject  of  his  detention. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  not  a  very  good  Unionist," 
said  the  young  man  somewhat  recovering  him- 
self. 

"I'm  a  woman,  Mr.  Stewart,  and  I  reckon 
you're  too  young  to  know  just  what  that  implies. 
I'm  in  favor  of  the  Union,  because  E'elson's 
fighting  for  it,  and  he  wouldn't  do  anything  that 


DOLLY  AND  WALTEK  195 

he  didn't  think  was  right.  But  I  am  a  southern 
girl,  and  I  love  the  South.  Now  what  am  I  go- 
ing to  do?  You  don't  know,  though,  for  it's 
only  women  who  let  their  affections  run  against 
principle." 

He  gave  her  a  quick,  suspicious  glance.  She 
was  unconscious.     He  was  on  the  rack. 

"  It  isn't  only  women,"  he  said. 

"  You  only  say  that  to  be  polite,  and  because 
it's  so  different  with  you,  but  I  know  better." 

He  rose  quickly  and  on  the  plea  of  some  obli- 
gation moved  away,  leaving  her  to  Emily's  com- 
pany and  conversation. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  a  trying  time  for  Wal- 
ter. It  was  now  unmistakable.  Dolly  Ether- 
idge  had  seen  through  him,  had  seen  his  weak- 
ness and  his  defection,  and  in  her  contempt  for  him 
delighted  to  stab  him  with  her  quiet  sarcasm. 
What  a  thing  he  must  be  to  call  forth  the  girl's 
disgust.  How  she  must  look  down  upon  him 
when  she  compared  him  with  her  brother,  such  a 
brother ;  and  in  fancy,  he  saw  Nelson  Etheridge 
sweeping  the  enemy  before  him  to  the  huzzas  of 
a  great  nation.  Well,  anyway,  Dolly  could  not 
think  less  of  him  than  he  thought  of  himself. 

He  would  rather  not  have  seen  her  any  more 
that  night.  But  he  had  promised  to  go  with 
Emily  to  take  her  home.  He  appeared  at  supper 
with  the  best  grace  possible,  and  when  it  was 


196  THE  FAISTATICS 

over,  joined  the  girls  for  the  ride  in  the  moon- 
light. It  would  have  been  pleasant  to  him,  this 
cantering  by  Dolly's  side,  with  the  moon,  a  silver 
globe  above  them,  and  the  scent  of  magnolias 
coming  sweetly  to  their  senses,  but  that  his  mind 
was  sadly  busy  with  what  she  must  be  thinking 
of  him.  He  kept  a  moody  silence  while  the  girls 
chattered  on.  Sometimes,  even,  in  his  desper- 
ation, he  thought  of  violating  his  parole,  but  his 
face  grew  hot  with  shame,  and  the  thought  went 
as  quickly  as  it  came. 

Dolly  and  Emily,  because  they  both  believed 
"Walter  immersed  in  sad  thoughts,  respected  his 
silence,  and  when  he  had  helped  the  girl  alight 
at  her  door,  and  given  the  horse  to  a  black  serv- 
ant aroused  from  somewhere,  the  former  gave 
him  her  hand  with  a  little  sympathetic  pressure 
that  made  his  heart  leap.  But  then,  the  next 
moment  he  was  saying,  "  Bah,  she  is  only  sorry 
for  having  stabbed  me  so  cruelly,  but  the  reason 
for  the  stabbing  remains." 

As  they  turned  their  horses  homeward  again, 
Walter  seemed  in  no  better  mood  for  talking 
than  before.  But  the  moonlight  and  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  soft  night  seemed  to  have  got  into  his 
sister's  tongue.  She  drew  her  horse  close  to  her 
brother's  and  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  not  well,  to-night,  Walter. 
What's  the  matter  ?  " 


DOLLY  AND  WALTEE  197 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing.    I'm  really  very  well." 

"  But  you  have  been  so  silent,  and  I  really  be- 
lieve Dolly  expected  you  to  talk  to  her." 

"  I  hardly  think  she  could  have  cared  much, 
either  one  way  or  the  other,"  he  said  bitterly. 

"  If  you  can  say  that,  you  know  very  little 
about  Dolly,  or  in  fact,  about  women  at  all.  You 
must  know  that  she  likes  you,  and  likes  you  very 
well." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Walter  doggedly,  but 
something  he  did  just  at  the  moment  to  the  horse 
he  was  riding,  made  her  arch  her  neck  and  step 
out  as  daintily  as  a  lady. 

"  But  she  does  like  you,  and  if  she  didn't,  you 
would  soon  know  it.  She's  very  peculiar  and  as 
open  as  the  day.  She  can  never  conceal  her 
thoughts  and  feelings.  Some  people  call  it  a 
fault,  but  I  call  it  a  virtue." 

"  One  would  think  at  times  that  she  was  sar- 
castic or  spoke  under  a  veil."  He  was  making  a 
great  effort  to  be  indifferent,  but  the  bridle  in  his 
hand  grew  tense. 

"  Why,  she's  as  innocent  of  such  things  as  a 
child.  How  stupid  you  are,  Walter.  I  never 
knew  you  to  be  so  before,  and  I  did  so  hope  you 
would  be  good  friends." 

"  Well,  well,  haven't  we  been  ?  " 

"  It  seemed  so  for  awhile,  but  you  were  so  dif- 
ferent to-night." 


198  THE  FAISTATICS 

"  Was  I  ?  Did  she  notice  it  ?  "  The  question 
was  eager. 

"  Being  a  woman,  she  could  scarcely  help  notic- 
ing it." 

"  Well,  I  was  thinking,"  he  said  lamely,  and 
then  burst  out,  "What  a  glorious  night  it  is, 
and  how  sweet  those  magnolias  are.  I  didn't 
notice  it  before.  Why,  Emily,  it's  good  to  be 
alive." 

"One  wouldn't  have  thought  it  of  you  a  little 
while  ago,  you  were  so  quiet  and  subdued." 

"  Oh,  well,  there  are  times  when  the  beauty  of 
a  night  sinks  into  our  souls  too  deep  for  words." 
Walter  winced  in  spirit  at  his  own  hypocrisy. 

"  There,  I  told  Dolly  that  you  felt  more  than 
you  said." 

"  You  told  her  that  ?  She  talks  about  me  to 
you  ?  " 

"  Oh  sometimes  you  come  up  in  the  course  of 
conversation." 

"  What  a  wonderful  girl  she  is." 

"  You — do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  That  is,  she  shows  a  deep  affection  for  her 
brother,  which  is  commendable." 

"  Oh, — but — don't  most  sisters  ?  " 

"  There  are  very  few  such  sisters  as  I  imagine 
Miss  Etheridge  and  know  you  to  be." 

She  forgave  him  instantly.  "You  dear  old 
Walter." 


DOLLY  AND  WALTER  199 

"  And  you  think  she  likes  me  ?  "  It  was  sweet 
to  him  to  say  it  after  his  bitter  thoughts. 

"  I  know  she  does,  and  you  should  have  known 
it  too." 

"  Her  brother  must  be  a  fine  fellow." 

"  You  would  like  him,  I  know." 

"  Let's  sit  out  and  talk  awhile.  It's  altogether 
too  lovely  to  go  in,"  said  the  young  man,  as  they 
turned  in  at  the  gate. 

"  I  shall  like  it,"  said  Emily,  and  giving  their 
horses  to  a  groom,  they  sat  down  on  the  veranda 
steps.  For  a  few  moments  there  was  a  silence 
between  them,  and  both  sat  gazing  at  the  starry 
heavens.     Then  Walter  said  falteringly, 

"  I — I — really — I  am  very  much  interested  in 
Miss  Etheridge's  brother.  Tell  me  more  about 
him." 

Then  his  sister  laughed,  not  teasingly  nor  ban- 
teringly,  as  some  sisters  would  have  done,  but 
with  a  little  satisfied  note,  and  she  said,  "  Brother 
mine,  there  is  only  one  thing  more  transparent 
than  glass,"  and  her  brother  caught  her  about  the 
waist,  and  kissed  her  for  some  reason  not  quite 
clear  to  himself.  So  they  sat  together  long  that 
night  and  talked  of  the  Etheridges,  brother  and 
sister. 

In  the  young  man,  his  fellow-soldier,  Walter 
evinced  a  polite  and  conservative  interest,  but  he 
was  apt  to  bring  the  conversation  back  to  the 


200  THE  FAKATICS 

sister  when  it  seemed  to  have  a  tendency  to  re- 
main too  long  away  from  her.  If  he  found  no 
more  pertinent  remark  to  make,  he  would  turn 
to  Emily  and  say,  "  So  you  think  she  likes  me  ?  " 
and  this  was  sufficient  to  start  the  stream  of  talk 
flowing  in  the  proper  channel. 

When,  finally,  they  sought  their  rooms  that 
night,  and  the  young  man  dropped  asleep,  there 
was  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  the  words  on  his 
tongue,  "  She  likes  me,  she  likes  me." 


CHAPTEK  XYII 

WHEN   LOVE   STANDS   GUARD 

What  surprised  Walter  when  the  morning 
brought  with  waking  a  review  of  the  night's  hap- 
penings, was  that  Emily,  simple  Emily,  who  had 
never  had  a  love  affair  in  her  life  that  he  knew, 
should  have  discovered  to  him  his  own  secret. 
Or  maybe  she  had  discovered  nothing  that  really 
existed  at  the  time.  Perhaps  the  train  had  been 
laid,  the  fuse  set,  and  her  remark  only  been  the 
match  to  set  the  whole  agoing.  However,  it 
made  no  matter  at  all  how  or  when  it  happened. 
It  was  true.  Now  to  let  Dolly  know.  It  was 
remarkable  how  soon  and  how  easily  all  his  fears 
and  misgivings  had  disappeared.  It  was  as  if  this 
state  of  exultation  had  been  waiting  for  him  and 
he  had  but  to  step  into  it.  Why  had  he  delayed 
so  long  ? 

The  days  that  followed  were  filled  with  softer 
sounds  than  the  sounds  of  war,  and  doings  that 
ha4  no  shadow  or  show  of  the  harshness  of  the 
camp.  Walter,  dazzled  by  the  glory  of  the  new 
world  that  had  opened  up  before  him,  forgot  the 

201 


202  THE  FANATICS 

hardness  of  his  lot,  forgot,  perhaps,  even  the 
deeper  sympathy  that  should  have  gone  from  him 
to  the  men  in  the  field — for  love  is  a  jealous  mis- 
tress. He  walked  and  rode  much  with  his  sweet- 
heart, by  the  grass-grown  bridle  paths  and  under 
the  ancient  trees.  His  heart  sang  a  song  to  hers, 
and  hers  replied  in  kind.  Emily,  like  a  good  sis- 
ter, knew  when  to  be  judiciously  absent,  and 
Dolly  understood  all  that  he  would  say  to  her 
long  before  he  dared  speak. 

It  was  not  until  the  warm  southern  November 
was  painting  the  hills  and  valleys  that  he  told 
her  of  his  love  and  his  hope. 

"  It  seems,  somehow,  Dolly,  that  I  have  no 
right  to  speak  to  you,  placed  as  I  am,  but  what 
am  I  to  do  ?  The  message  beats  at  my  heart  un- 
til at  times  I  think  you  must  hear  it.  I  love  you 
and  have  loved  you  from  the  very  first  night 
that  we  met." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  she  asked  quietly,  but  with 
just  a  suspicion  of  mirth. 

"  I  was  never  surer  of  anything  in  my  life." 

"  Did  you  always  know  that  you  loved  me  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  always  say  it  to  myself  as  I  say  it 
now,  sometimes  tremblingly,  sometimes  with  ex- 
ultation, but  I  must  always  have  known  it,  else 
why  should  your  lightest  word  have  had  \hQ 
power  of  making  me  happy  or  miserable  ?  " 

They  were  walking  slowly  over  the  crisp  pine 


whe:n"  loye  stands  guaed    203 

needles  in  the  copse  not  far  from  the  house.  She 
drew  closer  to  his  side,  and  her  hand  slipped  into 
his. 

"Poor  Walter,"  she  said,  "I  used  to  make 
you  miserable.  I  never  wanted  to  do  that  be- 
cause   " 

"  Because  ?  "  he  said  eagerly. 

"  Because  I  do  love  you." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  held  her  close  to 
him.     His  head  bowed  humbly. 

"  What  am  I  to  be  worthy  of  this  ?  "  he  said  at 
last. 

"  You  are  Walter,  my  Walter,  my  hero." 

Even  in  that  moment  of  ecstasy  he  winced  at 
the  word  hero.  He  was  not  of  the  material  of 
which  heroes  are  made  and  he  knew  it.  But  he 
would  not  shadow  their  happiness  now.  Let  her 
think  well  of  him  if  she  could.  Later,  he  would 
try  to  deserve  her,  and  after  all,  what  man  is  so 
good,  so  upright  as  the  woman  who  loves  him 
believes  ? 

Later,  when  the  deep  solemnity  of  the  first 
betrothal  had  given  way  to  a  gayer  mood,  she 
asked  him,  "  What  will  my  Virginia  friends  say 
to  my  marrying  a  Yankee  ?  " 

"  What  can  they  say  when  you  are  more  than 
half  Yankee  yourself  ?  " 

"I  declare  I'm  not.  I'm  Southern  clear 
through." 


204  THE  FANATICS 

He  took  her  hands  and  laughed  down  into  her 
eyes.  "!N^o,  you're  not.  You're  just — just  a 
woman,  and  I'm  only  a  man  and  we're  both 
more  lovers  than  anything  else,  so  let  your 
friends  say  what  they  will,"  and  the  answer 
seemed  to  satisfy  her.  Walter,  himself,  was  very 
well  satisfied,  and  when  two  young  people  are 
perfectly  satisfied  with  themselves  and  each 
other,  the  world  is  shut  from  their  vision,  and 
time  trips  a  merry  pace. 

"  Let  us  keep  our  sweet  secret  for  awhile,"  she 
said  when  the  lengthening  shadows  warned  them 
that  it  was  time  even  for  a  lover's  tete-a-tete  to 
be  done. 

"  Let  us,"  he  assented,  "  if  we  can.  It  seems 
so  much  more  our  own,  but,  can  we  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can,  I  know,  and  you  can  of  course,  for 
it's  only  women  who  are  untrustworthy  with 
secrets." 

'*  Yes,  that's  true,  but  there  are  secrets  and 
secrets.  There  never  was  such  a  one  as  this  be- 
fore, so  we  have  no  foundation  upon  which  to 
make  a  conclusion." 

"You  are  a  goose,"  she  said,  and  then  paid 
him  for  being  one.  Walter  was  right  though. 
They  went  into  supper  and  had  not  been  at  table 
five  minutes  before  every  one  knew.  Something 
in  their  faces  or  manner  or  the  way  they  played 
with    the    food,    laughed    inconsequently,    cast 


WHEN  LOYE  STAKDS  GUAKD     205 

glances  at  each  other,  told  more  plainly  than 
words  what  had  happened.  Love  had  put  on 
them  his  subtle  sign. 

Of  course,  Walter  being  a  man,  thought  that 
he  was  carrying  off  his  part  with  wonderful 
grace  and  shrewdness.  But  when  Emily  teased 
Dolly  as  they  were  passing  out  on  the  veranda, 
the  newly  betrothed  hid  her  blushing  face  and 
cried,  "  Oh,  Emily,  how  did  you  know  ?  " 

It  was  within  a  few  days  after  this  that  re- 
ports began  to  come  to  the  residents  in  and  about 
Fairfax  of  the  presence  of  guerillas,  foraging  and 
marauding  bands  in  the  neighborhood  and  fre- 
quently greatly  exaggerated  accounts  were  given 
of  their  depredations.  Walter  heard  them  all 
with  a  sinking  at  the  heart  for  the  safety  of  his 
betrothed.  She  was  alone  there  with  only  three 
or  four  black  servants  in  whose  valor  or  faithful- 
ness he  had  little  or  no  belief.  The  first  night  or 
two  that  the  rumors  were  current,  he  contented 
himself  with  getting  to  horse,  and  in  silence  and 
secrecy  patroling  the  road  in  front  of  the  Ether- 
idge  cottage.  Nothing  occurred,  but  as  the 
rumors  grew  darker,  his  state  of  mind  became 
more  perturbed  and  he  decided  upon  more  vigor- 
ous measures.  But  Dolly's  danger  had  not  oc- 
curred to  him  alone,  and  before  he  could  break 
the  subject  to  his  sister,  she  had  come  to  him 
with  a  troubled  face. 


206  THE  FANATICS 

"  Walter,"  she  said,  "  won't  you  excuse  me — I 
— haven't  been  spying  on  you,  but  I've  guessed 
where  you've  been  the  last  two  nights." 

A  thrill  half  of  shame  and  half  of  pride  in 
himself  shook  him. 

"  Well,  wasn't  I  right,  Emily  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  course,  you  were,  for  the  time  being ;  but 
do  you  think  it  is  enough  ?  You  know  we  had 
word  from  Miss  Mason  that  the  guerillas  visited 
her  place  last  night  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the 
servants  they  would  have  been  rude  or  worse. 
Now  Dolly  is  poor  and  has  so  few  negroes  about 
her." 

"  Well,  what  can  we  do  ?" 

"  I  wouldn't  trust  those  black  folks  anyhow, 
since  they've  got  notions  of  freedom  in  their 
heads." 

"  Nor  I,  but  I  can't  go  over  there  and  stay." 

"  Dolly  could  come  here." 

"  Would  she  ?     Do  you  think  she  would  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  would.  Mother  and  I  both 
agree  that  this  is  altogether  the  best  plan,  and 
we  wondered  if  you'd  mind  riding  over  for  her 
to-night." 

"Would  I  mind?" 

The  tone  was  quite  sufficient,  and  nothing 
more  was  needed  to  be  said. 

The  moon  was  at  the  full,  and  flooded  the 
landscape  with  silvery  light  when  accompanied 


WHEN  LOYE  STANDS  GUAKD     207 

by  Sam,  a  slave  boy  to  whom  he  had  become 
greatly  attached,  and  bearing  the  invitation 
from  his  mother  and  sister,  Walter  set  out  for 
Dolly's  house.  For  a  time  they  went  their  way  in 
silence,  and  then  Sam,  with  the  uncontrollable  de- 
sire of  his  race  for  lyric  expression  broke  into  a 
song  that  woke  the  echoes.  The  young  man,  he 
was  hardly  yet  a  master,  even  in  his  thoughts, 
listened  with  pleasure,  until  he  saw  a  dark 
form  beside  the  road  rise  up,  gaze  at  them  for  a 
moment,  and  then  disappear  into  the  surround- 
ing wood. 

"  Sh,"  said  Walter,  without  mentioning  what 
he  had  seen,  "  I  don't  believe  I'd  sing  any  more, 
Sam.  There's  no  telling  what  we  might  start 
up." 

"  Wisht  to  de  Lawd  it  'ud  be  a  'possum,"  said 
Sam,  chuckling  with  easy  familiarity,  but  he 
hushed  his  song. 

"  If  we  started  up  anything,  it  might  not  be 
something  so  pleasant  for  you  as  a  'possum." 

"  Not  pleasant  f u'  me,"  replied  Sam,  "  huh  uh, 
you  do'  know  dis  boss." 

"  So  you'd  leave  me,  would  you,  you  rascal  ? 
Well,  you're  a  great  one." 

"  'Spec's  I'd  have  to  leave  you  ef  I  couldn't  tek 
you  erlong." 

As  they  approached  their  destination,  Walter 
suddenly  drew  rein  and  laid  his  hand   on  his 


208  THE  FANATICS 

compamon's  bridle.  He  pointed  quickly  and  si- 
lently to  the  form  of  a  man  clearly  outlined  in 
the  moonlight.  He  was  standing  at  the  front  of 
the  cottage  window  attempting  to  peer  into  the 
room  through  a  crack  between  the  lower  blind 
and  the  sill.  So  intent  was  he  upon  his  spying 
that  he  had  not  noticed  the  approach  of  the 
others. 

"  Dismount  here,"  said  "Walter,  "  and  tie  the 
horses  under  the  shadow  of  that  mulberry  tree. 
I  believe  there's  mischief  going  on." 

The  negro  did  as  he  was  bidden  and  hastened 
back  to  his  companion's  side,  just  as  the  intruder 
walked  up  and  began  knocking  at  the  door. 
After  some  delay,  the  voice  of  a  negro  from 
within,  questioned,  "  Who's  dat  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  was  the  answer,  "  you  open 
up." 

The  silent  watcher  was  breathless  with  inter- 
est, but  he  kept  cool  enough  to  say,  "  Sam,  you 
slip  around  to  the  cabins,  and  rouse  what 
negroes  you  can.  Be  ready  for  whatever 
happens,  for  there's  no  telling  how  many  of 
them  there  are."  Without  a  thought  of  his 
joke  about  desertion,  Sam  slipped  away,  leap- 
ing across  the  moonlit  places  from  shadow  to 
shadow  while  Walter  crept  nearer  to  the  man  at 
the  door. 

It  had  not  been  opened,  but  a  negro  came 


WHEK  LOVE  STANDS  GUAED     209 

from  a  side  entrance  and  confronted  the  in- 
truder. 

"Why  don't  you  open  the  door?"  was  the 
harsh  question  fired  at  the  dark  Cerberus. 

"  Well,  suh,  I  didn't  jes'  know  who  you  was, 
an'  I  fought  mebbe  I  could  tell  you  whutevah 
you  wanted  to  know." 

"  It's  none  of  your  damn  business  who  I  am. 
I'm  here  in  the  name  of  the  law,  and  you'd  bet- 
ter open  up  all-fired  quick  or  it'll  be  the  worse 
for  you." 

The  negro  went  back  around  the  house  and  in 
a  few  minutes  the  door  opened.  As  he  passed 
the  light,  Walter  saw  that  he  wore  the  uniform 
of  a  Confederate  officer. 

The  door  closed  behind  him,  but  Stewart  be- 
coming spy  in  turn,  came  near  enough  to  hear 
what  was  said  within. 

"Where  is  your  mistress?"  in  the  officer's 
voice. 

"  She  done  retahed,  suh." 

"  Tell  her  I  wish  to  see  her." 

"  She  done  retahed." 

"  Very  well,  let  her  get  up.  Tell  her  that  her 
brother  is  supposed  to  be  skulking  within  the 
lines,  and  that  I  am  sent  to  search  the  house  for 
him." 

"  You  kin  such  de  house." 

"  I  shall  begin  with  her  room." 


210  THE  FANATICS 

"  Dey  is  no  one  in  huh  room,  but  huh,  suh." 

"  How  dare  you  talk  back  to  me,  you  black 
hound  ?  " 

The  harsh  voice  was  suddenly  checked,  and 
then  Walter  heard  another  that  made  his  heart 
leap  within  his  throat. 

"  Never  mind,  Mingo,"  it  said,  "  I  am  out  of 
my  room  now.  Lieutenant  Forsythe,"  went  on 
Dolly  calmly,  "  you  are  at  liberty  to  begin  there 
now,  and  search  where  you  please."  The  tone 
reeked  with  scorn. 

"  You  will  go  with  me,"  was  the  reply. 

"A  trusted  servant  may  accompany  you." 

"  You  will  go  with  me,  I  said." 

"  As  you  will,  lieutenant,  but  this  is  the  way 
you  pay  your  scores — come  when  there  is  no 
man  in  the  house  save  a  servant,  to  take  revenge 
for  a  woman's  no." 

"We  will  not  discuss  that  matter  now.  Miss 
Etheridge." 

Walter  had  pushed  the  door  open  and  he  saw 
that  the  man's  face  went  red  and  white  at  Dolly's 
words.  He  saw  too,  the  fierce  eyes  of  the  black 
servant  fixed  on  Forsythe,  and  for  one  instant, 
he  wondered  if  he  were  needed.  In  the  next,  he 
had  flung  the  door  open  and  stepped  into  the  room. 
Every  eye  turned  upon  him,  and  he  said  clearly, 
"  And  why,  Lieutenant  Forsythe,  must  the  lady 
go  with  you  ?  " 


WHEN  LOYE  STANDS  GUAED     211 

"  Oh,  "Walter,"  Dolly  cried,  and  then  checked 
herself  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  lieutenant  was 
livid. 

"  And  who  in  hell  are  you  ? "  he  asked  in  a 
tense  voice. 

"  I  am  Walter  Stewart,  at  your  service,  lieu- 
tenant." 

"The  paroled  Yankee,  eh?  Oh,  I  see,"  he 
said  in  a  tone  that  put  murder  in  Walter's  heart. 
"  It  is  thus  that  you  are  protected,  Miss  Ether- 
idge?" 

"  You  may  go  on  with  your  search,  lieutenant, 
that  you  have  a  perfect  right  to  do,  but  Miss 
Etheridge,  protected  or  not,  will  not  leave  this 
room." 

The  two  men  stood  glaring  into  each  other's 
faces,  while  Mingo,  relaxed  from  his  vigilance, 
was  chuckling  in  a  corner.  On  a  sudden,  there 
was  a  rush  of  feet  without,  and  four  brawny 
men  sprang  into  the  room.  The  open  door  and 
the  loud  voices  had  attracted  Forsythe's  minions, 
who  had  been  placed  at  a  convenient  distance. 
The  lieutenant  smiled  grimly  as  his  men  sur- 
rounded Walter. 

"I  reckon,  Mr.  Stewart,"  he  said  with  a 
sneer,  "  that  you'll  go  a  bit  slower  now." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  lieutenant,"  said 
Walter,  and  as  he  spoke,  four  negroes,  led  by 
Sam,  and  bearing   stout   clubs  swept  into  the 


212  THE  FANATICS 

room.  The  soldiers,  if  such  the  ragged  guerillas, 
whom  Forsythe  had  taken  as  his  accomplices 
could  be  called,  were  completely  taken  by  sur- 
prise, and  wilted  as  the  threatening  blacks,  now 
man  to  man  lined  up  beside  them. 

While  the  disappointed  officer  stood  there 
chewing  his  mustache  with  rage,  Walter  had 
time  for  a  few  reflections  upon  the  fidelity  of  a 
people  whom  he  so  little  trusted  because  their 
fidelity  militated  against  themselves,  and  it  set- 
tled something  in  his  mind  that  made  his  eyes 
flash  and  his  lips  press  close  together. 

"  You  may  proceed  with  your  search  now, 
lieutenant,"  said  Dolly  sweetly. 

"  It  is  unnecessary  now.  I  suppose  our  bird 
has  flown,  and  I  shall  not  put  myself  to  the 
trouble  of  searching  your  empty  rooms." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  did  not  know  before 
you  came,  lieutenant,  that  you  would  not  find  my 
brother  here  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  have  found  out  some  things 
that  I  did  not  know  before,"  he  answered,  glanc- 
ing meaningly  at  the  girl's  protector.  And  then, 
the  devil,  which  is  in  every  man,  became  strong 
in  Walter.  It  overcame  him.  His  fist  shot  out, 
and  Lieutenant  Forsythe's  lips  spilled  blood.  The 
officer's  eyes  grew  green  and  his  hand  went 
quickly  to  his  holster,  and  then,  the  veneering 
that  had  cracked  and  shown  the  brute  in  him, 


WHEN  LOYE  STANDS  GUAKD     213 

closed  again,  and  wiping  the  blood  from  his 
mouth,  he  said  with  the  calmness  of  intense 
anger,  "  What  this  calls  for,  Mr.  Stewart,  is  en- 
tirely beyond  the  limits  of  my  present  official  duty. 
Will  you  grant  me  the  pleasure  of  a  few  minutes' 
private  conversation?"  They  stepped  outside 
and  a  brief  whispered  conversation  ensued.  They 
were  equally  placid  when  they  returned. 

"  Attention  !  about  face !  forward,  march  ! " 
and  without  further  word  or  sign,  Forsythe  and 
his  minions  marched  away. 

"  Follow  them  quietly,  Sam,  and  see  that  they 
are  up  to  no  mischief,  and  you.  Miss  Etheridge, 
get  your  things  on,  for  you  must  go  with  me." 
He  had  forgotten  all  about  the  formal  invita- 
tion. 

"  When  is  it  to  be  ?  "  she  asked  in  reply. 

He  would  have  tried  to  evade,  but  she  looked 
at  him  so  steadfastly  and  earnestly  that  he  could 
not. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  he  said  simply, "  but  it 
is  to  be  taken  up  as  a  merely  personal  matter,  so 
I  beg  that  you  say  nothing  about  it.     Now  go." 

She  pressed  his  hand  quickly. 

"Come  'long.  Miss  Dolly,"  said  Mingo,  still 
chuckling  with  glee,  "  hyeah  'Mandy  stan'in'  be- 
hime  de  do'  wid  a  flatiron.  I  reckon  ef  Mas' 
Stewa't  hadn'  'a'  come,  she'd  a'  to'  dat  game 
roostah  up  'fo-  I  could  a'  said  Jack  Eobinson." 


214  THE  FAKATICS 

When  Sam  had  returned  and  reported  all  well, 
they  got  to  saddle  and  started  on  their  way,  two 
of  the  negroes  mounting  and  coming  behind  to 
prevent  treachery.  Dolly  and  Walter  rode  side 
by  side,  and  Sam,  who  rode  before,  had  neither 
eyes  nor  ears. 

"Do  you  really  believe  he  was  looking  for 
Nelson  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Do  you?" 

"  Oh,  Walter,  he  has  a  grudge,  and  he  is  re- 
lentless. He  proposed  to  me  once,  and  he  has 
pursued  me  ever  since." 

"  For  that  reason,  if  no  other,  I  shall  try  to 
kill  him  to-morrow,"  and  the  shadow  being  con- 
venient, he  kissed  her. 

There  was  some  commotion  in  the  house  when 
the  party  reached  home,  and  the  story  was  told 
in  its  entirety.  But  nothing  save  praise  fell  to 
Walter's  lot  for  his  action.  Dolly  respected  his 
wishes  and  said  nothing  of  the  impending  duel, 
though  her  heart  ached  for  her  lover. 

"  I  shall  see  you  before  you  go  in  the  morning," 
she  said  when  they  were  alone  for  a  moment  be- 
fore parting  that  night. 

"  I  shall  be  leaving  very  early,  before  you  are 
up." 

"  Before  I  am  up  I  Walter,  what  can  you 
be  thinking  of  me  ?  Why,  I  shall  not  go  to 
bed." 


WHElSr  LOYE  STANDS  GUAKD     215 

"  You  must,  dear,  for  I  shall,  and  I  shall  sleep 
well." 

"  As  you  say,  but  I  shall  see  you  in  the  morn- 
ing, nevertheless." 

Walter  called  Sam  to  him  as  he  went  up  to  his 
room. 


CHAPTEK  XYIII 

AN   AFFAIR   OF  HONOR 

The  arrangements  for  the  meeting  between 
Walter  Stewart  and  Lieutenant  Forsythe  were 
as  simple  as  the  brevity  of  their  conversation  in- 
dicated. The  whole  matter  was  to  be  kept  a 
profound  secret  as  much  on  account  of  Walter's 
position  as  a  paroled  prisoner  as  because  of  the 
other's  place  in  the  army.  They  were  to  face 
each  other  in  a  small  open  space  under  the  trees 
that  lined  a  little  creek  about  three  miles  from 
the  Etheridge  cottage.  They  were  both  familiar 
with  the  place  and  agreed  upon  it  with  equal 
readiness.  Because  of  the  secrecy  which  they 
wished  maintained,  there  were  to  be  no  witnesses 
beside  the  two  seconds,  but  each  might  bring 
with  him  a  trusted  friend  or  servant.  Thus 
promptly,  they  arranged  the  affair  leaving  only 
to  the  assistants  yet  to  be  chosen  the  task  of 
marking  the  ground  and  giving  the  signal. 
Pistols  were  the  weapons. 

When,  after  parting  with  Dolly,  Walter  called 
Sam  to  his  room,  it  was  to  dispatch  him  on  a 

216 


AN  AFFAIK  OF  HONOK  217 

delicate  and  doubtful  errand.  Eecognizing  the 
peculiar  attitude  of  his  neighbors  towards  him,  he 
had  formed  but  few  friendships  and  these  only 
of  the  most  tentative  kind.  Now,  in  this  emer- 
gency, he  needed  a  friend  and  a  confidant.  His 
mind  turned  to  but  one  person,  a  young  Dr. 
Daniel,  whose  frank  manner  had  won  him  as 
much  as  he  dared  yield  himself.  He  now  sent 
the  servant  to  bring  to  him  this  man  upon  the 
plea  of  most  pressing  business. 

In  less  than  an  hour,  the  young  physician  was 
with  him.  He  was  an  open-faced,  breezy  look- 
ing young  man  of  nine-and-twenty,  or  there- 
abouts, with  the  assured  manner  of  perfect  self- 
possession  and  self-reliance. 

He  came  into  the  room  with  a  soft  though 
brisk  step,  but  stopped  in  surprise  to  see  Walter 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Come  in,  doctor." 

"  Why,  why,  man,  from  the  expression  of  that 
rascal  of  yours,  I  expected  to  find  you  in  bed 
tossing  with  a  raging  fever  or  laid  up  with  a 
broken  leg." 

"  I  shall  not  be  your  patient,  to-night,  doctor, 
to-morrow,  who  can  say  ?  " 

"Eh,  what's  this?  Kot  thinking  of  suicide, 
are  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  thinking  of  how  good  a  shot  my  opponent 
may   be.     The   fact  is,  Dr.  Daniel,  I  called  you 


218  THE  FANATICS 

here  on  a  business  that  is  almost,  if  not  wholly 
impertinent.  But  I  hope  you  will  pardon  and 
help  me,  for  there  is  no  one  else  to  whom  I  may 
turn."  He  then  recounted  to  him  the  events  of 
the  night ;  the  physician's  face,  already  inclined 
to  ruddiness,  growing  redder  and  angrier  as  he 
went  on. 

"  Now,  doctor,"  concluded  Walter,  "  I  am  sure 
that  Forsythe's  intentions  were  neither  honest 
nor  official,  and  I  have  only  tried  to  do  my  duty. 
I«  it  too  much  to  ask  you  to  forget  what  I  am 
politically,  and  to  be  my  friend  and  second  in 
this  matter  ?  " 

"  Forget  what  you  are  ?  Damn  what  you  are, 
Stewart.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  man,  I'll 
change  places  with  you.  I'll  let  you  be  my 
second." 

"It's  my  fight." 

"  But  don't  you  see  it's  a  nasty  business,  and 
might  get  you  into  complications." 

"  I  am  willing  to  risk  all  that." 

"Oh,  come  now,  be  sensible.  The  lady's 
brother  is  a  good  friend  of  mine." 

"  The  lady  is  a  good  friend  of  mine." 

"But  I  know  the  whole  story;  how  he  has 
tried  to  annoy  that  girl  ever  since  she  rejected 
him  two  years  ago  as  any  girl  of  decency  and 
spirit  would  have  done.  I  know  he  has  always 
kept  just  outside  the  limit  that  would  give  her 


AN  AFFAIR  OF  HONOE  219 

brother  the  right  to  fill  his  carcass  full  of  lead. 
He  has  overstepped  it  now,  and  I  want  a  chance 
to  get  a  shot  at  the  dirtiest  hound  in  all  Virginia. 
Give  it  to  me." 

"Wish  I  could,  old  man,  but  I  want  it  my- 
self." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  always  was  a  selfish  dog.  It's 
your  say  and  if  you  won't,  you  won't ;  but  any- 
how, I'm  with  you,  and  I'll  be  in  at  the  death  if 
I  can't  have  the  brush." 

"Thank  you,  doctor,  your  kindness  is  even 
greater  than  I  could  have  hoped  for,  even  from 
you." 

"  Yours  isn't,  or  you'd  have  given  me  a  shot 
at  that  cur ;  but  remember  if  he  happens  to  hit 
you,  and  God  forbid  that,  I  get  the  next  chance 
at  his  hide." 

"  I  wouldn't  want  to  leave  the  business  to  a 
better  man,  and  now,  let  us  complete  our  ar- 
rangements, and  then  you  may  get  to  bed." 

They  talked  for  a  short  time  longer,  and  then 
Walter  conducted  the  physician  to  his  room, 
while  he  gave  his  attention  to  one  or  two  other 
duties.  The  last  words  the  buoyant  young 
Southerner  said  to  him  as  he  began  to  undress 
were,  "  Um,  you're  a  lucky  dog — a  shot  at  For- 
sythe  ! " 

It  was  before  the  darkness  of  the  night  had 
given  way  to  the  morning's  grey  that  the  men 


220  THE  FANATICS 

were  up  and  ready  for  the  saddle.  Dr.  Daniel 
had  already  reached  the  lawn  where  Sam  was 
holding  the  horses.  Walter  loitered  down  the 
hallway,  half  expecting,  yet  half  doubting  that 
he  should  see  Dolly. 

"  She's  asleep,  of  course,"  he  told  himself,  "  and 
I'm  glad  of  it.  How  could  I  expect  her  to  get  up 
after  such  a  night  as  she  has  had.  I  was  a  brute 
to  think  of  it."  Nevertheless,  there  was  a  dis- 
satisfied feeling  tugging  at  his  heart  as  he 
stepped  out  on  the  veranda.  But  his  foot  had 
scarcely  touched  the  floor  when  his  eye  caught 
the  flash  of  a  woman's  white  shawl  up  under 
some  vines  that  overhung  the  porch.  His  heart, 
suddenly  relieved  from  its  tension,  gave  a  great 
leap  as  he  hastened  towards  her. 

"  Dolly,"  he  said,  "  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't 
come.     Indeed,  I  didn't  want  you  to,  dear." 

"  I  had  to  come,  if  only  to  bid  you  Godspeed, 
Walter.  Come  back  to  me,  you  will,  won't 
you  ?  " 

"  To  answer  that,  lies  beyond  me,  my  darling, 
but  I  will  try.     If  I  don't " 

"  Don't  say  that — you  will." 

"  Good-bye,  now." 

"  Good-bye,  Walter,  good-bye,  and  strength  to 
you  and  a  safe  return.     Good-bye." 

She  went  back  and  he  hastened  down  and 
swung  into  the  saddle. 


AN  AFFAIR  OF  HONOR  221 

"  We  must  not  keep  the  gentlemen  waiting," 
he  said  to  the  doctor  as  they  rode  away  slowly 
until  out  of  ear-shot  of  the  house. 

"  It  will  be  enough  to  leave  him  lie  waiting 
afterwards,  and  I  hope  you  will  leave  him  for  a 
long  wait,  after  it's  all  over." 

"  Well,  it's  a  chance,  you  know,  and  I'm  will- 
ing to  take  it ;  if  he  leaves  me,  instead,  I  guess 
Sam  here,  can  take  me  home  across  his  horse." 

Sam  was  trailing  along,  carrying  the  pistol 
case,  but  he  caught  the  words,  and  spurred  up  to 
his  master. 

"  Mas'  Waltah,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  ef  dat  man 
hits  you,  dey  kin  bu'n  me  er  hang  me,  but  he 
ain'  gwine  leave  dis  place  alive." 

The  doctor  suddenly  halted  horse  and  turned 
on  the  negro. 

"  Now  look  here,  Sam,"  he  said,  "  it's  all  right 
for  you  to  be  protecting  your  master,  but  what- 
ever happens,  if  you  raise  a  hand  against  John 
Forsythe,  I'll  kill  you  on  the  instant.  When 
your  master  is  done  with  him,  he's  my  meat,  and 
he'll  hardly  take  the  reckoning  of  us  both." 

Sam  looked  appealingly  to  his  master. 

"  That's  right,"  the  latter  replied,  "  you're  not 
in  this  part  of  it,  Sam,  but  you  did  your  share 
last  night.  Anyhow,  I'm  not  counting  on  leav- 
ing work  for  anybody  this  morning." 

For  the  rest  of  the  journey,  they  rode  in  silence, 


222  THE  FANATICS 

but  Walter's  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  events 
that  had  filled  his  life  in  the  weeks  since  he  had 
left  Ohio.  He  reviewed  the  change  that  had 
come  to  him  in  his  feelings  towards  the  cause  he 
had  espoused.  He  saw  how  remorse  for  the  dis- 
agreement with  his  father,  his  affection  for  his 
family  and  the  glamour  of  the  South  had  all 
combined  to  win  him  from  a  righteous  allegiance, 
and  made  him  lukewarm  or  indifferent  to  what 
he  had  once  felt  to  be  the  absolute  right.  He 
saw  that  in  spirit,  if  not  in  deed,  he  was  as  much 
a  deserter  as  the  veriest  renegade,  who  stole  from 
the  marching  ranks  to  hide  in  the  thickets  and  by 
ways  until  his  comrades  had  passed  on.  He  saw 
how  much  weaker  a  man  he  was  now  than  on  the 
day  when  he  had  gone  out  from  his  father's  house 
in  Dorbury,  though  he  did  not  see  that  the  weak- 
ening process  had  been  excusable,  even  inevi- 
table. Though  he  held  himself  mercilessly  up  to 
his  own  criticism,  the  very  fact  that  he  was  able 
to  see  these  things  in  himself  clearly,  was  evi- 
dence of  the  approach  of  a  new  state  of  mind,  a 
change  subtler  than  either  of  the  others  had  been. 
He  had  begun  to  get  back  to  himself,  to  be  a  man 
stronger  than  his  surroundings,  with  a  spirit  in- 
dependent of  his  affections. 

At  first  contact  with  it,  to  him,  as  to  many 
others  beyond  his  years,  the  condition  of  the 
South,  its  life   and   its  people,  had   seemed   all 


AN  AFFAIK  OF  HONOR  223 

chivalry  and  romance.  The  events  of  the  past 
and  the  present  day's  business,  had  done  more  to 
tear  aside  this  veil  than  anything  else  could  have 
done.  It  was  clear  to  him  now  that  they  were 
not  all  gods  and  goddesses  in  Dixie — that  if  it 
were  an  Eden,  at  least  it  was  not  free  from 
serpents.  He  had  received  a  royally  good  shak- 
ing up,  and  now  he  began  to  perceive  that  some 
hasty  conclusions  which  he  had  reached  were  not 
based  upon  fact.  One  of  these  was  that  the 
North  was  eaten  up  by  commercialism  while  the 
South  was  free  from  it ;  another  that  Northern 
honor  and  Southern  honor  were  two  essentially 
different  things ;  both  these  beliefs  died  an  earl}'' 
death  as  he  reflected  that  here  too,  men  bought 
and  bartered,  sold  and  intrigued.  The  occur- 
rences which  had  taken  place  within  the  last  few 
months  under  his  eyes  now  reacted  one  upon  the 
other  with  the  result  of  placing  him  surely, 
strongly  and  logically  where  his  first  enthusiasm 
had  placed  him,  and  for  the  first  time  since  he 
had  been  paroled,  the  irksome  hatefulness  of  his 
situation  was  borne  in  upon  him.  Now  he  chafed 
to  be  in  the  field  again.  Now  he  felt  the  thrill 
of  fighting  for  a  great  cause.  His  eyes  were 
flashing  and  his  teeth  clenched  hard  when  the 
voice  of  the  doctor  called  him  to  the  business  at 
hand. 

"  Here  we  are,"  he  cried  as  gaily  as  though 


224  THE  FANATICS 

they  were  a  party  reaching  the  picnic  grounds, 
"  and  we're  the  first  here,  of  course." 

They  dismounted  and  tied  their  horses,  and 
then  began  examining  the  ground.  It  was  a 
plot  of  greensward,  well  surrounded  by  trees, 
and  sloping  with  a  slow  incline  to  a  little  creek 
that  ran  gurgling  past — a  quiet,  pretty  enough 
place,  but  its  very  seclusion  had  made  it  the 
recipient  of  many  a  bloody  secret  in  those  days 
when  men  settled  affairs  of  honor  according  to 
the  code.  Two  trees  stood  opposite  each  other 
about  twenty  paces  apart,  and  these  had  won  the 
name  of  the  "  duelling  trees,"  because  the  dis- 
tance between  them  being  paced,  the  principals 
were  usually  placed,  one  under  each,  and  many  a 
deadly  combat  had  been  waged  beneath  their 
softly  sighing  branches. 

The  grey  dawn  had  given  way  to  the  warmer 
hues  of  morning  when  two  other  riders  cantered 
into  the  circle  of  trees  and  halted. 

"  It's  Forsythe,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  And  he  only  brings  one  of  his  troopers  with 
him  as  second." 

"  If  it  is  true  that  he  went  on  that  errand  last 
night  without  authority,  it  is  just  as  well  that  he 
does  not  have  too  many  in  his  secret,"  was  the 
rejoinder. 

The  men  greeted  each  other  with  the  utmost 
formality,  though  there  was  a  touch  of  brusque- 


AN  AFFAIR  OF  HONOR  225 

ness  in  the  physician's  recognition  of  the  lieu- 
tenant. While  the  two  principals  walked  apart, 
their  seconds  paused  for  a  brief  conference  as  to 
conditions.  In  a  little  while,  Dr.  Daniel  came 
to  Walter. 

"Are  you  ready  and  steady,  old  man?" 

"  Both,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

"  The  conditions  are  these ;  you  are  to  be  sta- 
tioned at  twenty  paces,  back  to  back.  At  the 
word,  you  are  to  turn  and  fire  where  you  stand, 
then  each  has  the  privilege  of  advancing,  firing 
until  one  or  the  other  is  hit.    Are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"Perfectly." 

"  Yery  well,  we  are  ready,"  said  the  doctor  to 
Forsythe's  trooper,  and  together  they  paced  off 
the  ground,  already  so  well  known.  Then  the 
men  were  put  in  their  places,  and  each  second 
saw  to  the  condition  of  his  principal's  weapon. 
Dr.  Daniel  stationed  himself  to  the  left,  and 
midway  the  ground,  while  the  trooper  took  a 
like  position  to  the  right. 

"  Are  you  ready,  gentlemen  ?  "  said  the  latter. 

"  We  are  ready." 

"  One." 

Then  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  broke  the 
morning  stillness,  and  he  paused.  Both  men 
waited  with  manifest  impatience,  but  neither 
spoke. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  doctor.     "  Quick  I " 


226  THE  FANATICS 

"Two." 

Forsythe  half  turned,  but  it  was  too  late.  A 
squad  of  horsemen  in  grey  uniform  burst  into 
the  enclosure  and  rode  between  the  men. 

"  Walter  Stewart,"  said  the  sergeant,  "  I  arrest 
you  upon  the  charge  of  violating  your  parole." 

"  Can  you  not  wait  just  one  moment  until  this 
business  can  be  dispatched,"  said  Walter  calmly. 

But  the  officer  spurred  away  from  him  with  a 
curt,  "Your  business  is  not  ours." 

"JS"ever  mind,  Forsythe,"  screamed  Daniel, 
"I'll  take  the  job  off  of  Stewart's  hands." 

"Lieutenant  Forsythe  is  also  under  arrest," 
said  the  sergeant. 

Forsythe  went  very  white,  but  stood  calm  as 
a  statue. 

"  You  took  a  miserable,  cowardly  way  to  save 
yourself,"  he  said  when  he  and  Walter  were 
brought  together. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  lieutenant,"  said  the  ser- 
geant breaking  in,  "  one  of  your  own  men  was 
the  informant." 

The  lieutenant  bit  his  lip.  The  three  prison- 
ers, for  the  trooper  was  also  put  under  arrest, 
mounted  their  horses  and  were  surrounded  by  a 
close  guard. 

"  Why  am  I  too  not  arrested  ?  "  stormed  the 
doctor. 

"  We  had  no  orders  regarding  you,  sir,"  was 


AN  AFFAIK  OF  HONOR  227 

the  reply,  and  the  little  cavalcade  cantered  away, 
leaving  the  physician  swearing  with  feeling  and 
distinction. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said  at  last.  "Let's  go 
home,  Sam.  If  that  old  trooper  had  been  a  bit 
quicker,  Virginia  might  have  been  rid  of  the 
meanest  sneak  that  ever  scourged  her ;  but  in- 
stead of  that,  the  party  is  broken  up  and  nobody 
gets  out  of  the  mess  but  the  doctor  and  the 
darky,  neither  one  worth  arresting.  Come,  let's 
go  home." 


CHAPTEK  XIX 

JUSTICE 

After  the  arrest  of  Walter,  the  doctor  and 
Sam  rode  back  over  their  tracks  one  as  discon- 
solate as  the  other.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  duty 
that  loomed  up  before  them  in  the  all  too  near 
future.  Walter  was  gone.  He  would  be  missed 
and  questions  would  be  asked.     Then  what  ? 

"Oh,  Lord,"  sighed  the  doctor,  "Sam,  what 
are  we  going  to  do  ?  What  are  we  going  to  say 
to  them  when  they  ask  for  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  hit  don'  seem  dey's  nuffin  else  f u'  me 
to  do  but  to  tell  de  trufe." 

"  My  Lord,  you  are  in  desperate  straits,  that's 
always  a  man's  last  resort.  Now,  for  my  part, 
I'd  a  good  deal  rather  lie  if  it  would  do  any 
good.  But  the  devil's  going  to  be  raised,  and 
they'll  be  sure  to  find  out.  Biff !  there  goes  my 
reputation.  I  tried  to  persuade  your  master  to 
let  me  take  this  business  on  my  hands.  It  would 
have  been  a  good  deal  better  to  have  faced  For- 
sythe  and  have  shot  him  or  been  shot  than  to 
face  these  bereaved  women.     But  I'm  in  for  it 

228 


JUSTICE  229 

now,  so  come  along,  Sam.  You  take  a  hint  from 
me.  If  I  decide  to  tell  the  truth,  you  tell  it.  If 
I  decide  to  lie,  you  fall  in  and  outlie  the  devil 
and  stick  to  it." 

As  they  neared  the  Stewart  home,  the  spirits 
of  both  of  them  sank  lower  still.  The  sun  was 
now  overhead,  and  was  fast  drying  the  dew- 
laden  grass  by  the  roadside.  The  day  was  clear 
and  bright,  or  they  might  have  taken  for  an  ap- 
parition the  white  faced  figure  that  stepped  out 
in  the  road  before  them. 

The  doctor  drew  in  his  horse  with  an  exclama- 
tion, and  Sam's  eyes  threatened  to  leave  their 
sockets. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  Where  is  he  ?  "  cried  Dolly. 
"  What  has  happened  to  him  ?  " 

The  dumbfounded  men  gazed  first  at  the 
misery-distraught  woman,  and  then,  helplessly 
at  each  other. 

"Oh,  don't  keep  me  in  suspense.  Tell  me, 
where  is  Walter?"  She  had  thrown  aside  all 
reserve  and  false  modesty,  and  stood  before 
them,  self-confessed,  a  woman  distressed  for  the 
safety  of  her  lover. 

"  Why — why — Miss  Etheridge,"  stammered 
Daniel. 

"You  tell  me,  Sam.  I  command  you  to  tell 
me  the  truth.  I  see  in  Dr.  Daniel's  eyes  his  in- 
tention to  hide  something  from  me." 


230  THE  FANATICS 

The  slave  looked  at  his  companion  for  guid- 
ance, but  getting  no  help  from  him,  he  mum- 
bled, "  Mas'  Walter,  w'y,  he  went  wid  de  loo- 
tenant." 

"  Went  with  him  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  Was 
he  hurt  ?  Have  3'^ou  deserted  him  ?  Oh,  doctor, 
please,  please  tell  me.  It  was  for  me  that  he 
went  into  this." 

Daniel  dismounted,  and  throwing  his  bridle 
over  his  arm,  he  began  leading  the  girl  towards 
the  house. 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  said,  and  as  briefly 
and  gently  as  possible,  he  related  what  had  taken 
place. 

She  heard  him  through  in  silence,  and  then 
asked,  "  What  will  they  do  with  him  ?  " 

"That  I  cannot  tell,  Miss  Etheridge,  but  I 
don't  see  how  they  can  do  much  when  the  truth 
is  known." 

"  But  will  the  truth  be  known  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  vouch  for  that,  either,  but  whatever 
I  can  do  to  make  it  known,  shall  be  done.  I  am 
going  up  home  to  arrange  my  affairs,  so  that  I 
may  be  away,  and  then  I  shall  start  for  Colonel 
Braxton's  headquarters,  whither  he  will  be 
taken." 

"  Will  you  take  a  letter  for  me  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure." 

"  Thank  you,  doctor,  thank  you  for  your  kind- 


JUSTICE  231 

ness  to  him  and  to  rae.  I  will  have  the  letter 
ready  when  you  return.     Good-bye  until  then." 

She  was  hastening  away,  but  he  detained  her. 
"  I  am  going  up  to  the  house,"  he  said. 

"  You  must  not,  I  will  break  it  to  them  as  you 
cannot." 

"  But  do  you  think  it  quite  right  ?  "  he  asked 
with  a  look  of  relief  that  belied  his  anxious 
tone. 

"  I  can  do  it  better  than  you.  So  do  not  wait 
for  me.  Mount  and  lose  no  time."  She  hurried 
on,  and  he  rejoined  Sam. 

"It's  all  right,  Sam.  Just  keep  your  mouth 
shut.  The  telling  will  be  done  for  us  better  than 
we  can  do  it. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  said  later,  as  he  left  the  servant 
at  the  gate  and  rode  on  past.  "  If  I  could  find  a 
woman  who  loved  me  like  that,  I'll  be  hanged  if 
I  wouldn't  risk  it.     I  would." 

With  swift,  but  reluctant  steps,  Dolly  made 
her  way  homeward  and  sought  out  Emily  and 
her  mother.  Her  face  was  pale  and  drawn  with 
pain  and  her  girl-companion  saw  at  once  that 
something  was  wrong. 

"  What  is  it,  Dolly  ?  "  she  asked  hastening  to 
her. 

"  Let  me  sit  down,  I  don't  know  what  you  will 
say  to  me,  Mrs.  Stewart,  and  you,  Emily,  how 
you  will  feel  towards  me." 


232  THE  FANATICS 

"IS'othing  can  ever  change  us  towards  you, 
Dolly,  so  be  calm,"  said  Emily,  putting  her  arms 
around  her. 

"I  should  have  told  you  last  night,  but  he 
wouldn't  let  me,  he  was  afraid  you  would  be 
worried." 

"  Is  it  about  Walter  ?  "  exclaimed  his  mother. 
"  What  has  happened  to  him  ?  " 

"He  is  at  Colonel  Braxton's  headquarters, 
under  arrest." 

"  Under  arrest  ?  "  cried  the  two  women. 

"But  Dolly,"  said  Emily,  "how  could  they 
arrest  him?    He  was  paroled." 

"  Oh,  you  will  think  that  I  am  a  wicked,  heart- 
less girl,  for  it  is  all  my  fault." 

"Your  fault?  How?"  Emily's  tone  was 
colder,  and  she  withdrew  her  arm  from  Dolly's 
waist. 

"  Don't  leave  me,  Emily,  till  you  understand. 
There  was  a  personal  encounter  last  night  be- 
tween Walter  and  Lieutenant  Forsythe,  and  it 
resulted  in  a  meeting  between  them  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  A  duel  ?  " 

"  It  would  have  been,  but  they  were  both  ar- 
rested by  a  squad  this  morning  and  taken  away." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  us  this  before,  Dolly,  so 
that  we  might  have  stopped  it?"  said  Mrs. 
Stewart  sternly. 


JUSTICE  233 

"Walter  forbade  me  and  I  could  not  violate 
his  confidence." 

"There  are  times  when  even  a  violation  of 
confidence  might  be  justifiable." 

The  girl  raised  her  tear-stained  face  to  the 
older  woman's.  "  You  do  not  understand,"  she 
said.  "  He  was  involved  on  my  account,  and  he 
trusted  me.  Suppose  I  had  violated  this  trust, 
told  you  and  the  matter  had  been  stopped  by 
you  ?  What  would  they  have  said  ?  *  His  mother 
intervened  to  save  him.'  Mrs.  Stewart,  Walter's 
honor  is  as  dear  to  me  as  to  you  or  Emily,  and  I 
could  not  do  that." 

"  Forgive  me,  child,  you  are  right,  but  this  is 
very  hard." 

"  I  know  it.  But  though  I  could  not  save  him 
then  without  dishonor,  I  shall  try  to  help  him 
now,  by  writing  the  whole  story  to  Colonel 
Braxton." 

"Who  will  take  it?" 

"  Dr.  Daniel  is  going  to  the  camp  to  intercede 
for  Walter,  and  will  call  for  my  letter  soon.  I 
will  go  now  and  write  it.  Do  try  to  be  calm. 
They  can't  be  hard  upon  him  when  they  know 
what  a  hero  he  has  been." 

Mrs.  Stewart  patted  the  girl's  hand  gently  and 
said,  "  His  mother  and  sister  will  try  to  be  as 
brave  as " 

"  His  sweetheart,"  cried  Dolly,  blushing,  and 


234  THE  FANATICS 

taking  the  grey-haired  woman  in  her  arms,  she 
kissed  her  and  sped  from  the  room.  Emily 
laughed. 

"  Why,  daughter,  how  can  you  laugh  at  such  a 
time  ?  "  asked  her  mother. 

"  Because  I  feel  so  sure  that  "Walter  is  safe,  and 
will  come  back  to  us  unharmed  and  without  dis- 
honor." 

"  Don't  be  sanguine,  dear.  The  conditions  of 
war  are  very  different  from  those  of  peace." 

"  I  know,  mother,  but  would  you  have  had  him 
do  less?" 

"  I  don't  know,  and,  yes,  I  do ;  your  father's 
son  could  have  done  no  less." 

It  was  not  long  before  Dr.  Daniel  came  has- 
tening back,  but  quick  as  he  was,  Dolly  Etheridge 
was  ready  with  her  letter. 

"  I  want  you  to  forgive  me,"  he  said,  "  for  my 
part  in  this  affair,  but  you  must  understand  that 
I  am  not  greatly  to  blame.  I  begged  Stewart  to 
let  me  chip  in,  but  he's  an  awfully  proud  fellow, 
you  see,  and  he  wouldn't  let  me  do  it.  I  was  par- 
ticularly anxious  to  get  a  chance  at  Forsythe. 
But  your  son,  Mrs.  Stewart,  said  it  was  his  quar- 
rel, and  I  could  only  play  second  fiddle.  To  be 
sure,  I  might  have  locked  him  in  his  room  and 
gone  as  proxy,  but  I  didn't  think  he'd  like  it." 

**Why  that  would  have  been  horrible,"  ex- 
claimed Emily. 


JUSTICE  235 

"  Yes,  but  you'd  have  had  your  brother  with 
you  now." 

"  We  should  not  have  wanted  him  at  that  cost," 
was  the  sister's  reply. 

"  No,  Walter  has  been  perfectly  right,"  added 
the  mother. 

"  Perhaps  I  did  the  best  thing,  after  all,"  said 
the  doctor  ruefully  ;  "  but  it's  pretty  hard  to  see 
such  a  chance  escape  never  to  return." 

"  Had  you  any  quarrel  with  Lieutenant  For- 
sythe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no  special  quarrel.  It  was  just  gen- 
eral principles  with  me.  I  really  believe  the  Con- 
federate army  would  have  voted  your  son  a  medal 
if  he  had  rid  them  of  a  hound  who  gained  his  po- 
sition through  the  worst  influence,  and  holds  it 
through  duplicity.  But  I  mustn't  stand  here 
chattering  all  morning.  I  am  quite  ready  to  take 
your  letter.  Miss  Dolly,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  do 
as  much  good  as  you  want  it  to  do." 

Miss  Etheridge  handed  him  her  missive  with  a 
blush.     "  Bring  him  back  with  you,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  I  won't  promise  to  do  just  that,  but 
if  I  don't,  I'll  bring  you  good  news  anyhow,  and 
I  won't  spare  any  time  in  getting  this  into  the 
proper  hands.  Good-morning  to  you,  ladies,  and 
good  cheer,"  and  the  good  doctor  leaped  into  his 
saddle  and  cantered  away,  leaving  behind  him  a 
cheerier  household  than  he  had  found. 


236  THE  FANATICS 

It  was  ten  miles  to  his  destination,  but  he  made 
short  work  of  it,  sent  his  message  through  the 
lines  and  received  safe  conduct  to  the  colonel. 
This  officer  was  a  grizzled  veteran  who  had  seen 
service  in  the  Mexican  war,  and  who  was  bent 
on  doing  for  the  raw  material  that  he  had  in 
hand  what  years  of  service  had  done  for  him. 
He  was  as  kind  of  heart  as  he  was  brusque  of 
manner.  To  him,  Dr.  Daniel  came  with  his  own 
story  and  Dolly's  letter,  which  the  colonel  read 
grimly. 

"You  are  a  friend  of  the  prisoner's,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  haven't  known  him  long,  but  I  have 
learned  to  like  him  right  well." 

"  Do  you  know  that  this  liking  of  yours  and 
your  connection  with  the  affair  is  likely  to  in- 
volve you  in  difficulty  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,  but  it 
doesn't  matter  in  the  least." 

The  colonel  bent  industriously  over  the  paper 
in  his  hand,  and  a  smile  flickered  through  his 
grey  mustache. 

"Are  you  acquainted  also  with  Lieutenant 
Forsythe  ?  " 

Daniel  straightened  himself  up  angrily.  "I 
know  Forsythe." 

"  I  said  Lieutenant  Forsythe." 

"  Beg  pardon,  colonel,  but " 


JUSTICE  237 

"  Enough,  suh.     Who  is  this  Miss  Etheridge  ?  " 

"  She's  a  daughter  of  old  JS^elson  Etheridge,  of 
Kockford,  sir." 

"  Who  was  related,  I  believe,  to  the  Etheridges 
of  Mecklenbu'g  county  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I'm  not  just  up  on  genealogy,  and 
all  that  sort  o'  thing,  but  I  dare  say  you're  right. 
Most  all  Virginians  are  related,  you  know.  It's 
become  a  state  habit." 

Again  the  colonel  had  recourse  to  the  papers 
to  hide  his  amusement.  When  he  looked  up 
again,  he  said, 

"  I  shall  have  to  detain  you.  Dr.  Daniel,  until 
I  look  further  into  this  case.  Discipline  has  been 
altogether  too  lax  here  of  late,  and  while  disaffec- 
tion has  not  become  common  in  Virginia,  there  is 
altogether  too  great  a  tendency  towards  it." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  feel  any  doubt  about  me, 
colonel  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  a  matter  of  personal  feeling." 

"  Of  course  not,  I  ought  to  have  known  that. 
In  fact,  I  did  know  it,  and  yet  I  feel  that  you  are 
saying,  *  What  is  an  able-bodied  fellow  like  that 
doing  at  home  ? '  Well,  I'm  not  home  for  choice 
or  for  all  time.  Yet  there  are  some  things  to  be 
done  before  I  can  go  where  the  rest  of  the  fel- 
lows of  my  age  are.  There  are  women  and  chil- 
dren to  be  looked  after  and  dosed.  Until  now, 
there  have  been  things  outside  of  the  army  that 


238  THE  FANATICS 

I  could  do  for  Virgin ia,  but  as  soon  as  a  breath- 
ing time  comes,  I  shall  be  where  I  should  be." 

The  coloners  eyes  were  very  bright  as  he  looked 
at  the  young  man,  but  he  only  said,  "  No  doubt," 
and  called  an  officer  to  take  Daniel  away. 

"There's  a  man  who  would  make  a  good 
fighter,  but  a  damned  bad  soldier,"  was  the 
veteran's  mental  comment.  "  He's  too  free  and 
easy." 

"  Bring  in  the  prisoner,  Stewart,"  was  his  com- 
mand to  the  orderly. 

The  appearance  of  Walter  was  hardly  that  of 
a  felon  when  he  came  into  the  presence  of  the 
commanding  officer.  His  eyes  were  clear,  his 
head  high  and  his  step  firm.  There  was  no  sign 
of  fear  in  the  manner  in  which  he  met  his  judge's 
gaze. 

"  Your  name  is ?  " 

"  Walter  Stewart." 

"And  you  were  until  first  taken,  a  soldier  of 
the  Northern  army  ?  " 

"  I  was." 

"  You  were  taken  when  within  the  Confederate 
lines,  and  were  paroled  when  you  might  have 
been  dealt  with  as  a  spy." 

"  My  business  within  your  lines  was  perfectly 
clear." 

"That  does  not  alter  the  case.  You  were 
paroled  and  violated  the  parole." 


JUSTICE  239 

"  I  do  not  feel  that  the  latter  is  the  case,  sir." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  the  colonel  sternly.  "  Do  you 
dare  to  deny  it  ?  " 

"  I  deny  none  of  the  facts  of  the  case,  sir,  I 
only  question  their  construction." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  question,  suh,  you  are  a 
prisoner  to  be  judged.  The  case  to  my  mind  is 
perfectly  clear  against  you." 

"  You  are  the  judge,"  said  Walter  calmly. 

"  You  were  found,  suh,  in  the  very  act  of  an 
encounter  with  a  Confederate  officer,  after  hav- 
ing assaulted  him  on  the  night  before.  We  con- 
sider, suh,  that  you  have  violated  your  parole,  and 
broken  your  word  of  honor." 

"  When  Virginia  thinks  that  by  protecting  a 
defenceless  woman,  a  man  tarnishes  his  honor  or 
forfeits  his  word,  I  begin  to  feel  sorry  for  my 
father's  state." 

"  Suh,  you  are  not  the  gyardian  of  Virginia's 
honah." 

"  I  am  the  custodian  of  my  own,  though." 

"  Then  you  should  have  seen  better  to  it  than 
to  have  broken  your  parole.  You  know  the  con- 
sequences." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  consequences.  I  am 
willing  to  abide  by  them.  But  I  do  not  think 
that  I  have  violated  my  parole.  I  have  not 
taken  up  arms  against  the  Confederate  states, 
unless  they  are  warring  against  their  own  de- 


240  THE  FANATICS 

fenceless  women.  Nor  have  I  given  aid  or  com- 
fort to  your  enemies,  unless  you  consider  as  an 
enemy,  a  woman  who  has  never  by  word  or  deed 
shown  anything  but  allegiance  to  the  South  she 
loves." 

"  Ahem !  "  said  the  colonel. 

"  Furthermore,  my  quarrel,  my  encounter,  was 
not  against  your  government,  but  against  the 
injustice  of  one  man.  It  was  not  an  encounter 
involving  national  views,  but  a  purely  personal 
encounter." 

"  In  troublous  times  like  these,  no  encounter 
with  an  oflBlcer  of  ours  can  be  considered  as 
personal." 

"  I  hope,  sir,  that  you  have  not  also  suspended 
the  rule  in  regard  to  respect  for  women." 

"  You  are  pleased  to  be  impertinent,  and  yet  I 
answuh  that  I  hope  Virginia  will  never  be  guilty 
of  that."     Walter  bowed. 

"  I  understand  that  you  are  a  son  of  the  late 
Colonel  Stewart,  a  Yirginia  gentleman  ?  " 

"  I  was  never  more  his  son  than  now." 

"  I  doubt  that.     I  knew  your  father." 

"  My  father,  placed  in  the  same  position  I  was, 
would,  I  believe,  have  acted  as  I  did." 

"  Without  doubt — I  beg  your  pardon,"  the 
colonel  checked  himself.  "But  yours  are  rules 
of  civil  life,  and  your  laws  are  for  civilians ;  at 
present,  we  are  under  military  rule." 


JUSTICE  241 

"  Having  been  a  soldier,  I  understand  that.  I 
am  in  your  hands." 

"Sergeant  of  the  guard,  you  will  hold  the 
prisoner  under  arrest  until  further  orders.  I  will 
look  into  your  case  and  consider  it  further. 
Ketire.  A  moment,  sergeant."  The  non-com- 
missioned officer  paused  just  out  of  ear-shot  of 
Walter,  and  the  colonel  whispered,  "  Treat  him 
well,  sergeant,  he's  a  Stewart  cleah  through." 

After  the  dismissal  of  Walter,  Lieutenant  For- 
sythe  was  brought  into  the  colonel's  presence. 
The  conference  between  him  and  his  superior 
officer  was  short  and  decisive. 

"  Lieutenant  Forsythe,  you  gave  as  your  rea- 
son for  entering  the  house  of  Miss  Etheridge, 
that  you  were  on  a  search  for  her  brother." 

"I  did." 

"You  were  not  aware  that  her  brother  had 
been  for  some  time  in  the  Union  army  ?  " 

"  I  had  received  reliable  information  that  led 
me  to  believe  that  he  had  returned  and  was  in 
hiding  at  home." 

"  After  gaining  entrance  into  the  house,  why 
did  you  insist  upon  Miss  Etheridge's  accompany- 
ing you  in  your  search  ?  " 

Forsythe  hesitated  and  turned  color  under  the 
colonel's  glance. 

"  I  wished  to  be  able  to  watch  her  face  and  so 
tell  when  I  was  upon  the  scent." 


242  THE  FANATICS 

"  Why,  when  you  had  the  chance  to  search  the 
house  without  her,  did  you  not  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  was  sure  her  brother  had  been  given  time 
and  opportunity  to  escape." 

"  Now,  Lieutenant  Forsy the,  will  you  tell  me 
by  whose  orders  you  went  upon  this  search  for 
Nelson  Etheridge  ?  " 

"  I  thought  that  the  capture  of  an  enemy " 

"  Will  you  answer  my  question  ?  " 

"  Upon  no  one's  specific  orders,  but " 

"No  buts  about  it.  I  am  answuhed.  Were 
you  ever  a  suitor  for  Miss  Etheridge's  hand  ?  " 

"  I  consider  that  a  personal  question,  sir." 

Forsythe  saw  that  the  hope  for  him  was  gone 
and  he  could  be  no  worse  off  by  taking  a  stand 
on  dignified  effrontery. 

"  Oh,  you  consider  it  a  personal  question  ?  " 

"  I  do,  and  one  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  my 
service." 

"  And  as  such,  you  refuse  to  answuh  it  ?  Yery 
well.  You  have  no  doubt  understood  the  rules 
of  this  command  in  regyard  to  the  treatment  of 
women  ?  " 

"Yes— but " 

"  That  will  do,  Lieutenant  Forsythe.  A  court- 
martial  will  attend  to  your  case." 

The  lieutenant  saluted  and  was  taken  away 
under  guard.  Walter  and  Dr.  Daniel  were  then 
summoned. 


JUSTICE  243 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  colonel  to  the  former, 
"  I  regret  that  I  find  cause  neither  to  hold  nor  to 
punish  you.  I  regret,  too,  that  you  have  chosen* 
a  course  alien  to  your  father's  traditions  and  be- 
liefs. But  that,  of  course,  is  not  my  affair.  I 
advise  you,  in  the  future,  however,  to  keep  cleah 
of  collisions  with  our  officers,  or  the  next  time 
you  may  not  get  off  so  easily." 

Walter  felt  it  the  part  of  wisdom  to  make  no 
reply,  and  so  merely  bowed. 

"  You,  Dr.  Daniel,"  said  the  colonel,  turning  to 
the  physician,  "  will  always  find  a  welcome  here, 
and  whenever,  if  ever,  you  choose  to  throw  your 
lot  in  with  us,  I  hope  to  have  you  in  my 
command." 

"  Thank  you,  colonel,  thank  you,  sir." 

The  two  men  were  conducted  safely  away  from 
camp  and  set  on  their  homeward  way. 

"  By  Jove,  Stewart,"  said  the  doctor  heartily, 
"  I  wish  you  weren't  a  Yankee !  " 

"  I'm  hardly  a  Yankee,  doctor,  as  you  use  the 
term.  But  knowing  Ohio,  and  knowing  Vir- 
ginia through  such  men  as  you,  I  am  more  than 
ever  for  the  Union  that  will  keep  two  such 
states  together,  let  that  Union  be  bought  at 
whatever  price  it  may." 

The  two  men  clasped  hands  across  their  saddle 
bows.  The  physician  took  Walter's  praise  as  in- 
genuously as  a  child. 


244  THE  FANATICS 

"  I  wish,"  he  said,  "  that  more  Northerners 
knew  us  Southerners." 

"  If  the  two  sections  did  know  each  other 
better,  a  deal  of  blood  might  be  saved." 

It  was  a  grave  ride  home,  but  the  rejoicings  at 
the  end  of  the  journey  compensated  for  all  the 
serious  thought  along  the  way. 

"Bless  you.  Dr.  Daniel,"  said  Mrs.  Stewart 
fervently. 

"  Oh,  don't  thank  me,  Mrs.  Stewart.  I'm  not  a 
drop  in  the  bucket.  It  was  Miss  Dolly's  letter 
that  fixed  everything." 

"  Dolly's  letter !  "  cried  Walter. 

The  girl  blushed,  and  the  doctor  added, 
"  Maybe  I'm  telling  tales  out  of  school." 

"  You  shall  tell  me  about  it,  Dolly,"  said  Wal- 
ter with  glowing  eyes.  This  was  perhaps  only 
an  excuse  to  lead  her  away  from  the  rest  for  a 
walk  in  the  arbor.  What  excuse  Dr.  Daniel 
gave  for  leading  Emily  in  an  opposite  direction 
matters  not,  but  it  must  have  been  satisfactory, 
for  Mrs.  Stewart  found  the  housewife's  excuse  of 
her  work  to  leave  them,  and  the  doctor  stayed  to 
supper. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  VISION   OF   THE   BLACK    RIDER 

Despite  the  apparent  cheerfulness  with  which 
Mary  Waters  went  her  way  in  the  Woods  house- 
hold, she  was  not  entirely  her  own  old  self. 
There  was  an  air  about  her  not  so  much  of  sad- 
ness as  of  repression.  She  tried,  as  well  as  the 
circumstances  of  the  household  allowed,  to  be 
alone,  although  Nannie,  feeling  that  brooding 
over  her  experiences  must  be  unprofitable  to  her 
friend,  attempted  to  correct  this  tendency  in  her. 
She  was  not  always  successful,  for  notwithstand- 
ing the  pliancy  of  her  disposition  with  those 
whom  she  loved,  Bradford  Waters'  daughter  had 
something  of  a  will  of  her  own,  and  there  were 
times  when  she  would  elude  ]S"annie's  vigilance 
or  repel  her  advances  and  wander  away  to  in- 
dulge her  moods  to  herself. 

As  the  midsummer  approached,  she  grew  rest- 
less and  preoccupied  and  often  she  would  awake 
Nannie  at  night  by  starting  up  with  cries  of 
terror.  But  on  being  questioned,  the  only  reply 
245 


246  THE  FANATICS 

she  would  make  was  that  she  had  been  dreaming. 
Her  dreams  she  would  not  tell  at  first. 

Finally,  the  fancy  so  grew  upon  her  that 
Nannie  began  to  tax  her  with  keeping  something 
back.  Mary  continued  reticent,  but  worn  and 
weak,  she  at  last  surrendered  to  her  friend's 
stronger  nature. 

"  You've  just  got  to  tell  me  what  it  is,  Mary 
Waters,"  said  Nannie.  "  Something  is  troubling 
your  mind,  and  you  are  troubling  mine." 

"  But  it's  such  a  foolish  thing,  Nannie." 

"I  don't  care.  Folly  is  none  the  worse  for 
being  shared  with  some  one." 

"Do  you  believe  in  dreams  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  tell  me  yours,  and  I'll  see.  If 
I  believe  it  means  anything,  I'll  tell  you,  hon- 
estly, I  will." 

"  Well,  I  have  the  vision  of  a  black  rider  that 
continually  comes  to  me  in  a  sort  of  stupor  that 
I  experience  between  sleeping  and  waking.  I 
cannot  describe  what  I  mean  nor  the  feeling  of 
it.  But  I  know  I  am  not  asleep  nor  yet  awake. 
The  rider  is  always  going  along  a  dark  road,  and 
he  comes  up  and  holds  out  his  arms  to  me.  His 
face  is  covered,  but  I  know  him.  It  is  the  form 
of  Eobert  Yan  Doren.  But  before  I  can  touch 
his  hand,  he  is  gone,  and  when  I  call  out  after 
him,  everything  grows  utterly  black  and  I  am 
awake  with  a  terrible  misgiving  at  my  heart. 


YISION  OF  THE  BLACK  KIDEK    247 

Oh,  I  am  afraid  something  has  happened  to 
him." 

The  girl  seldom  let  herself  out  so  fully,  and 
I^annie  saw  that  she  was  terribly  wrought  up. 

"  It  is  nothing,  Mary,"  she  said.  "  You've 
been  brooding  too  much  and  it  has  made  you 
nervous  and  sleepless.  It  will  all  come  right  if 
you  try  not  to  worry  and  wonder  too  much." 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  that  and  I  would 
rather  not  have  told  you." 

"  Don't  be  offended,  dear.  What  I  say  is  only 
for  the  best.  It  is  what  Tom  would  say  to  you 
if  he  were  here." 

"  Yes,  that's  true,  for  he  would  understand  no 
better  than  you,  Nannie.  There  is  with  me 
something  more  than  the  dream — a  feeling  here," 
she  pressed  her  hand  to  her  breast,  "  a  peculiar 
ache  that  isn't  so  much  an  ache  as  a  premonition 
of  one.  You  don't  know  what  I  mean,  but  I 
do." 

"  I  think  I  almost  understand.  It's  the  same 
feeling  that  I  have  in  my  feet  just  before  I  step 
on  the  jack  in  your  father's  warehouse." 

Mary  looked  up  quickly  to  see  if  her  friend 
was  joking,  but  the  eyes  that  met  her  own  were 
perfectly  serious,  and  though  she  could  not 
vouch  for  the  correctness  of  the  likeness,  she  felt 
that  somehow,  E^annie  understood. 

"But,"  the  latter  pursued,  "I  never  let  the 


248  THE  FANATICS 

feeling  in  my  foot  get  the  better  of  me,  and 
neither  must  you  give  way  to  that  in  your  heart. 
It  may  be  there,  and  it  may  seem  something,  but 
just  keep  on  going." 

"  That's  hardly  necessary  advice,"  smiled 
Mary.  "  It's  the  one  thing  that  we  have  to  do 
in  life,  keep  on  going.  No  matter  how  many 
presentiments  you  have,  you've  got  to  go  on  to 
their  fulfillment.  That's  one  thing  that  gives  me 
the  horrors  at  times  until  I  want  to  shriek  aloud 
— this  unending  forward  movement.  If  one 
could  only  stop  sometimes — but  we  can't." 

"  Don't,  Mary,  don't ;  there  are  some  things 
that  we  must  neither  think  nor  talk  about,  some 
things  that  we  must  leave  to  a  Higher  Intelli- 
gence than  ours." 

"  But  suppose  that  one  does  think  about  them, 
that  one  cannot  help  it — that  everything  suggests 
these  thoughts  ?  " 

"  Oh,  in  that  case,  one  goes  out  into  the  open 
air  with  me,  walks  down  to  the  shop,  and  as  she 
has  a  quick  eye,  helps  me  match  some  goods," 
and  seeking  to  divert  her  mind  from  the  gloomy 
thoughts  that  were  taking  possession  of  it,  Nannie 
hurried  Mary  into  her  hat  and  out  upon  the 
streets. 

The  day  was  full  of  sunshine,  but  the  air  was 
limpid  with  the  suggestion  of  rain,  and  a  soft 
breeze  blew  up  from  the  river.     The  town  was 


VISIOlSr  OF  THE  BLACK  KIDEK    249 

humming  and  drowsing  comfortably,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  its  appearance  to  indicate  that 
just  a  little  below  the  surface  there  smouldered 
volcanic  fires  of  discontent  and  unrest.  The 
whole  place  was  the  embodiment  of  peace.  The 
blinds  of  the  houses  were  closed  to  keep  out  the 
garish  sunlight  and  the  most  active  sign  of  life 
upon  the  resident  streets  was  the  young  children 
playing  in  the  gutters  and  on  the  pavements. 

Something  of  the  restfulness  of  the  scene  pos- 
sessed Mary  and  for  the  time  drove  the  clouds 
from  her  mind.  The  bright  day  and  her  fore- 
bodings did  not  set  well  together.  Could  it  be 
true  that  on  such  a  morning  as  this  with  such  a 
sky  overhead  men  could  be  hating  each  other 
and  seeking  each  others'  lives?  Her  mind  re- 
jected the  incongruity.  After  all,  the  darkest 
hour  is  just  before  dawn.  She  had  been  going 
through  her  dark  hour  and  now  all  the  bright- 
ness and  beauty  about  her  were  but  the  promise 
of  the  better  time  coming.  She  went  into  the 
shop  with  IS'annie  stepping  lightly  and  with  a 
smile  on  her  face. 

Though  poetry  has  told  us  that  coming  events 
cast  their  shadows  before  them,  science  has  not 
troubled  itself  to  deal  largely  with  this  subject 
of  premonition,  nor  is  it  believable  that  those 
shadows  are  cast  upon  all  hearts.  But  there  is 
little  doubt  that  to  some  there  is  given  the  added 


250  THE  FANATICS 

sorrow  of  feeling  the  approach  of  catastrophe 
some  time  before  the  fact.  Call  it  presentiment 
or  what  you  will,  there  are  those  who  are  capable 
of  feeling  disaster  before  it  comes.  Of  these, 
was  Mary  Waters,  and  bright  as  her  face  had 
been  when  she  entered  the  shop  with  Nannie 
the  clouds  had  settled  upon  it  again  when  she 
emerged. 

"  Let  us  walk  up  Main  street,"  she  said,  and 
her  companion  agreed. 

Nannie  chatted  on  cheerfully  because  she  had 
not  noted  Mary's  return  to  her  former  depression. 
Had  she  only  looked  at  her  companion's  gloomy 
face,  her  flow  of  talk  would  have  been  checked. 
Mary's  eyes  were  fastened  upon  a  knot  of  people 
surrounding  a  bulletin  board  in  front  of  the 
Diurnal  office. 

"  Something  is  wrong,"  said  Mary  suddenly, 
breaking  in  on  her  friend's  talk. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  the  surprised 
girl. 

"  Look  at  the  crowd  up  there.  Let  us  go  and 
see." 

Eeluctantly  Nannie  complied  and  they  were 
soon  on  the  outskirts  of  the  growing  crowd. 
They  could  not  get  near  enough  to  see  the  words 
on  the  board,  but  some  one  read  aloud  for  the 
benefit  of  the  late  comers  the  words  that  made 
Mary  pale  with  terror  and   turn  hastily  way. 


VISIOISr  OF  THE  BLACK  KIDEK    251 

"  John  Morgan  with  his  cavalry  has  crossed  the 
river  and  is  advancing  into  Ohio." 

"  John  Morgan  is  in  Ohio,  and  Kobert  is  with 
him — my  vision,  the  Black  Kider."  The  dis- 
jointed words  beat  time  to  the  throbbing  of  her 
heart.  "  John  Morgan  is  in  Ohio  and  Robert  is 
with  him." 

The  news  spread  like  wildfire  and  already  the 
town  was  alive  with  people  hastening  to  the 
centre  of  intelligence.  The  drowsy  summer 
quiet  had  gone  from  the  streets  as  if  by  magic, 
and  instead  there  were  the  shuffling  of  feet  and 
the  babble  of  many  tongues.  But  Mary  did  not 
speak  and  Nannie  gave  her  the  sympathy  of  si- 
lence. Only  when  they  were  in  the  house  again 
did  she  say,  "  I  shall  never  question  your  feelings 
again.  Never."  Then  with  rare  good  sense,  she 
left  Mary  to  herself. 

The  shock,  coming  as  it  had,  as  a  confirmation 
of  her  fears  and  holding  in  it  unknown  possibili- 
ties for  trouble  had  a  severe  effect  upon  the  girl. 
She  was  distressed  for  the  safety  of  her  lover, 
but  not  only  that,  for  a  new  element  had  entered 
into  her  feelings.  Heretofore,  she  had  had  little 
or  no  doubt  as  to  the  righteousness  of  her  loyalty 
to  Robert.  But  now  it  was  a  very  different 
thing.  He  was  no  longer  a  brave  man  exiled 
and  driven  into  the  army  of  the  enemy.  He 
was  now  the  invader  of  his  own  home  and  hers. 


252  THE  FANATICS 

As  long  as  he  fought  on  the  soil  of  his  father's 
state  against  invasion,  he  might  still  have  her 
love  and  sympathy ;  but  did  he  not,  by  this  last 
act,  forfeit  both?  Reasoning  with  a  woman's 
narrow  vision,  she  admitted  his  right  to  defend 
himself  and  those  he  loved  against  the  govern- 
ment, but  questioned  his  privilege  to  attack  it. 
It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  sentiment  had  much 
to  do  with  Mary's  point  of  view.  In  one  role, 
Robert  was  the  prince,  in  the  other,  the  ogre, 
and  she  could  not  quite  reconcile  herself  to  sym- 
pathy with  the  ogre.  It  was  rather  a  nice  ques- 
tion to  ask  her  to  decide  whether  the  right  of  de- 
fence did  not  carry  with  it  the  right  of  attack. 
There  was  something  of  horror  in  the  picture  she 
drew  of  him,  riding  a  marauder  over  the  fields  of 
the  state  that  had  so  long  sheltered  him.  In  her 
mind,  the  whole  invasion  was  narrowed  down  to 
one  man.  It  was  not  Morgan  and  his  men — it 
was  Robert — Robert,  for  whom  she  had  left 
home,  for  whom  she  had  suffered  contempt. 
What  did  it  matter  to  her  that  John  Morgan 
was  with  him  ?  What  did  it  matter  to  her  that 
he  was  one  of  two  thousand  ?  Then  her  trend 
of  thought  began  to  change.  Had  he  not  been 
forced  to  go  where  he  was?  She  remembered 
his  words  to  her  father  on  that  memorable  night. 
"The  Confederacy  may  thank  you  for  another 
recruit ! "     Must  he  not  do  then  as  his  comrades 


YlSIOlSr  OF  THE  BLACK  RIDER    253 

did  ?  Would  it  not  be  cowardice  in  him  to  re- 
fuse to  go  where  they  went?  Would  he  do 
wrong  consciously  ?  She  could  not  believe  it. 
After  all,  she  loved  him  and  she  would  trust  him 
blindly,  whatever  happened.  The  inevitable 
thing  occurred.  Her  love  triumphed,  ^he^need 
have  asked  herself  no  perplexing  quei^tions  had 
she  only  begun  with,  "  Is  my  love  for  him  strong 
enough  to  overlook  all  shortcomings  ?  "  With 
Dannie  in  the  same  case,  it  would  have  been 
different.  There  would  have  been  no  questions 
at  all.  She  would  merely  have  said,  "  Well,  if 
he  does  it,  it  must  be  right,"  and  gone  on  with 
a  contented  mind.  Even  Mary  was  happier  for 
her  decision,  though  she  reached  it  after  much 
doubt. 

Dorbury  heard  of  the  rebel  general's  daring 
dash  into  Ohio  with  an  astonishment  that  was 
only  equalled  by  its  anger  and  terror.  There 
had  been  threats  and  rumors  of  some  danger 
from  Kentucky,  but  the  possibility  of  it  had  been 
beyond  belief.  iS'ow  that  the  thing  had  really 
come,  men  stood  aghast.  Men  who  had  scoffed 
before,  now  became  suddenly  serious.  Men  who 
had  wavered  in  their  allegiance,  now  spoke  out 
boldly  for  the  Union  when  their  homes  were 
menaced.  On  every  side  was  the  cry  "The 
Home  Guards,  the  Home  Guards,"  and  old  men, 
middle-aged    men    and    beardless    youths   went 


254  THE  FANATICS 

flocking  into  the  armory.  "  Be  sure,"  said  some, 
"  if  he  dares  cross  into  Ohio,  there  are  more  be- 
hind him,  and  it  means  that  they  intend  to  over- 
whehn  the  state !  "  Others  said,  "  They  will  burn 
Cincinnati,  strike  here,  unless  we  can  check  them, 
march  on  and  destroy  the  capital." 

On  any  corner,  sane  men,  fanatics  and  dema- 
gogues could  secure  audiences  to  listen  to  their 
oratory,  in  which  they  adjured  their  hearers  to 
rise  in  their  might  and  drive  the  invader  from 
their  sacred  soil. 

There  were  some  men  in  the  town  who  smiled 
and  added,  "  It  is  a  feint,  let  Morgan  come.  He 
will  not  come  far."  There  were  not  many  of 
them.  There  were  others  who  gathered  behind 
the  closed  blinds  of  Stephen  Van  Doren's  house 
to  talk  of  this  new  development.  To  them  Yan 
Doren  spoke  confidentially.  "I  deplore  this 
move,"  he  said.  "  It  will  take  away  sympathy 
from  the  cause  of  the  South,  although  Morgan  is 
only  doing  what  Lincoln  has  done  in  the  South. 
It  is  a  sorry  matter  all  through,  for  we  have  been 
plunged  into  a  war  that  might  have  been  averted 
by  able  statesmanship.  If  worst  comes  to  worst, 
we  have  only  our  government  to  thank,  and  yet 
it  is  a  bad  thing,  for  nothing  will  do  more  to 
cement  a  feeling  of  clannishness  in  the  North  and 
give  these  fanatics  something  to  point  to  than 
this  same  attempt  to  fight  the  devil  with  fire." 


YISIOJS^  OF  THE  BLACK  RIDER    255 

Among  all  the  crowding  men,  the  believers  in 
different  creeds,  walked  Bradford  Waters  like  an 
Elijah  among  the  prophets  of  Baal.  The  news 
was  to  him  as  the  battle-smoke  to  the  nostrils  of 
the  war-horse.  He  seemed  like  one  inspired,  and 
it  was  as  if  the  things  that  he  had  longed  for  had 
been  done.  There  was  a  look  of  exaltation  on 
his  face,  but  his  was  an  emotion  too  deep  for 
words,  though  none  who  saw  him  needed  speech 
of  him. 

In  her  bedroom,  his  daughter  sat  staring  si- 
lently out  of  her  window,  not  thinking — hardly 
dreaming — and  so  night  fell  on  Dorbury. 


CHAPTEK  XXI 

A   VAGUE   QUEST 

It  is  doubtful  how  long  Mary  would  have  sat 
staring  out  into  the  darkness  had  not  the  en- 
trance of  I^annie  and  her  preparations  for  bed 
disturbed  her  revery.  She  also  disrobed  and  was 
soon  lying  in  bed,  her  eyes  wide  open  and  her 
thoughts  busy  with  the  events  of  the  day.  She 
did  not  want  to  talk  and  so  made  but  brief  re- 
plies to  Nannie's  proffers  of  conversation.  Fi- 
nally, from  feigning  sleep,  she  fell  into  a  light 
doze  from  which  she  started  crying,  "  The  Black 
Eider !     The  Black  Rider ! " 

The  experiences  of  the  last  few  hours  had  ex- 
hausted Nannie,  and  though  it  was  yet  early  in 
the  evening,  she  was  sleeping  soundly.  Mary  re- 
covered herself,  and  finding  that  she  was  not  ob- 
served, crept  stealthily  from  the  bed.  She 
paused  for  awhile  beside  the  window,  and  then 
dressed  with  feverish  haste  as  if  spurred  by  a  defi- 
nite purpose.  When  she  was  fully  clothed  she 
stepped  quietly  down  the  stairway,  and  past  the 
sitting-room  where  some  of  the  family  were  still 
up,   and  glided   out   of   the   house.      Why   she 

256 


A  YAGUE  QUEST  257 

was  doing  so,  she  herself  could  not  have  told, 
but  something  was  dragging  or  driving  her  on, 
on,  towards  the  station.  She  had  yet  no  fixed 
idea  where  she  was  going,  but  she  felt  in  her 
pocket  for  money  and  it  never  occurred  to  her 
until  she  found  the  amount  of  her  fare  that  from 
the  beginning  she  had  intended  to  go  to  Cincin- 
nati, though  that  she  did  not  yet  know,  the  tend- 
ency towards  a  definite  act  being  rather  subcon- 
scious than  apprehended.  There  was  just  time 
to  catch  the  half-past  ten  train.  She  reached 
the  station,  bought  her  ticket  and  sank  breath- 
less and  dazed  into  a  seat. 

There  was  a  moment's  delay,  and  then  the 
train  sped  away  into  the  darkness.  The  sum  of 
all  her  impressions  was  that  the  Black  Rider 
whose  face  was  still  concealed  from  her,  flitted 
ever  by  the  side  of  the  coach  and  just  at  her 
window.  The  lights  of  the  town  faded  from 
view  and  the  river  lay  behind  her  a  line  of  sinu- 
ous silver.  The  sky  overhead  was  besprent  with 
pale  stars,  but  she  saw  only  the  cloaked  and  muffled 
man,  riding,  riding  as  one  rides  in  a  nightmare. 
The  train  whistled,  wheezed  and  paused  at  sta- 
tions, and  then  went  panting  on,  and  Mary, 
knowing  as  little,  feeling  hardly  more  than  the 
dumb  mechanism  that  carried  her,  went  on  upon 
a  vague,  unknown  quest,  for  what,  she  could  not 
have  told. 


258  THE  FANATICS 

Prompting  her  action  there  was  apparently 
no  cause  or  intelligence.  Scarcely  was  there 
even  volition.  Some  force,  stronger  and  wiser 
than  she,  good  or  malignant,  impelled  her  for- 
ward whether  she  would  or  no.  She  went  on 
not  because  she  would,  but  because  she  must. 

The  night  became  suddenly  overcast,  the  sky 
darkened,  the  stars  went  out,  and  as  the  train 
flew  on  its  way  southward,  a  peal  of  thunder 
broke  from  the  heavens,  and  sharp  rain  began 
pattering  against  the  window.  She  crouched 
lower  in  her  seat  and  stared  ever  out  through  the 
pane  where  she  could  see  the  mantled  figure 
riding,  riding.  She  could  hear  his  horse's  hoof- 
beats  above  the  sound  of  the  storm,  and  her  eyes 
sought  vainly  his  face,  though  she  knew  and 
could  not  be  deceived  in  the  form. 

When  the  coach  drew  into  Cincinnati,  she 
alighted  and  still  blind,  dazed  and  apparently 
without  direction,  hastened  out  and  took  a  car. 
The  night  was  one  of  inky  blackness,  the  rain 
was  coming  down  in  torrents,  while  intermittent 
flashes  of  lightning  showed  her  the  wet  and  shin- 
ing streets  and  the  roadways  through  which  she 
was  passing.  At  the  call,  Avondale,  she  left  the 
car  and  went  on  blindly  into  the  night. 

Terror  now  seized  her,  terror  of  the  unknown, 
of  the  darkness,  of  the  mystery  in  her  own  wild 
act ;  but  she  could  not  stop  nor  turn  back.     Was 


A  YAGUE  QUEST  259 

she  fleeing  from  or  to  something  ?  Once  in  a 
moment  of  consciousness,  she  asked  herself  the 
question,  but  hurried  on  without  answering  or 
attempting  to  answer  it.  On,  through  the  little 
suburban  village  and  out  upon  a  country  road,  a 
mile  out;  the  last  house  had  been  passed,  the 
last  light  had  flickered  out  of  her  sight,  and  then 
drenched,  exhausted,  she  paused  under  a  huge  oak 
and  turned  her  eyes  back  over  the  way  she  had 
come.  It  was  not  weariness  that  made  her  stop, 
it  was  a  sense  of  waiting,  waiting  for  something, 
the  thing  for  which  she  had  come.  It  was  per- 
haps a  half  hour  that  she  had  stood  there,  and 
then  the  sound  of  clattering  hoofs  struck  her  ear. 
She  pressed  closer  to  the  tree.  A  company  of 
cavalrymen  were  approaching.  They  came  at  a 
smart  canter.  Breathlessly,  she  awaited.  They 
were  near  to  her.  They  were  passing,  first  close 
together,  then  with  gaps  between,  then  scatter- 
ingly.  With  her  physical  ear  she  heard  the 
sound  of  their  hoof-beats  in  the  soft,  slushy  mud, 
but  with  her  inner  sense,  she  heard  the  sound  of 
one  horse  on  dry  ground,  and  her  eyes  saw  but 
one  rider,  still  the  black  mantled  figure  of  her 
dreams.  She  heard  him,  saw  him  coming  nearer, 
nearer,  then  a  flash  of  lurid  lightning  lit  the 
whole  scene,  and  starting  forward  from  the  tree, 
she  cried,  "  Kobert,  Kobert !  " 

As  if  but  one  man  had  heard  her,  as  if  her 


260  THE  FAJSTATICS 

voice  had  been  intended  to  reach  but  one,  a 
figure  shrouded  in  a  dark  cloak,  whirled  and  rode 
from  the  straggly  ranks  up  to  the  side  of  the 
road  and  dismounted.  She  stretched  her  arms 
out.  Another  flash  of  lightning  showed  the 
trooper  the  white  face  of  the  girl  beside  the  tree, 
and  with  a  cry  he  caught  her  to  him  as  she  fell 
forward. 

"  Mary,  Mary,"  he  cried,  "  can  it  be  you  ?  Are 
you  flesh  or  spirit?  My  God,  what  does  it 
mean  ? "  But  she  was  lying  cold  in  his  arms. 
The  cavalry  passed  on,  stragglers  and  all.  He 
stood  there  helplessly  holding  her,  one  hand 
clutching  his  horse's  bridle.  The  rain  from  the 
leaves  dripped  in  her  face,  and  she  revived. 

"  Kobert,"  she  said  faintly. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I — I — don't  know.  I  dreamed  of  you  and  I 
came.     Where  am  I  ?  " 

"  On  the  road  out  of  Cincinnati,  about  two 
miles  from  Avondale.     Who  came  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  came  alone." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     Something  sent  me  to  you." 

"  You  are  very  weak,"  he  said. 

"  I  must  go  back  now,"  she  replied. 

"  Where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

The  power  that  had  driven  her  out,  that  had 


A  YAGUE  QUEST  261 

guided  her  seemed  suddenly  to  have  left  her  help- 
less and  without  direction. 

The  men  now  were  entirely  passed,  and  without  a 
word,  he  lifted  her  to  his  saddle  and  springing 
up  behind  her,  turned  his  horse's  head  back  to- 
wards the  town. 

"  God  knows  what  brought  you  here,  darling," 
he  whispered  close  to  her  ear,  "  but  it  was  some- 
thing stronger  and  wiser  than  us  both.  It  has 
been  a  long,  hard  ride  with  me,  and  I  was  losing 
hold,  but  you  have  given  me  strength  again. 
People  have  heard  our  horses  and  are  aroused,  but 
I  will  take  you  back  where  you  will  be  safe. 
Another  day,"  he  bent  over  and  kissed  her  brow, 
"  when  all  of  this  is  over,  you  shall  tell  me  how 
and  why  you  came  to  me,  love  of  my  heart." 

She  nestled  closer  to  him  and  did  not  answer. 
There  was  nothing  for  her  to  say,  she  did  not 
understand,  he  did  not  understand.  He  rode 
straight  into  the  town.  Dark  forms  were  gath- 
ering upon  the  corners.  Here  and  there  a  torch 
flared. 

"  I  must  leave  you  now,  Mary,"  he  said,  "  the 
power  that  brought  you  will  care  for  you.  I 
must  join  my  company.     God  be  with  you." 

He  set  her  down  and  was  wheeling  aAvay,  when 
a  torch  beside  him  flared.  A  man  cried,  "  Here's 
one  of  them  !  " 

Yan  Doren  struck  spurs  to  his  horse  and  the 


262  THE  FANATICS 

animal  dashed  away.  A  hue  and  cry  arose. 
There  was  a  volley  of  shots,  and  the  night  swal- 
lowed the  Black  Kider.  A  crowd  surrounded 
Mary  and  led  her  speechless  and  confused  to  the 
nearest  house.  A  few  of  the  bolder  spirits  fol- 
lowed the  rider  on  foot,  until  the  sound  of  his 
horse's  hoofs  had  died  away  into  the  distance. 

The  girl  could  not  give  any  clear  account  of 
herself  except  that  she  had  come  from  Dorbury 
and  had  wandered  out  of  her  way.  Kind 
matrons  put  her  to  bed  where  she  fell  asleep  like 
a  child,  though  she  would  have  rested  less  easily 
had  she  known  that  Eobert  was  swaying,  white- 
faced  in  his  saddle,  his  arm  shattered  by  a  bullet. 

All  night  long,  men  full  of  alarm,  patroled  the 
streets  of  the  village  fearing  and  expecting  an 
attack,  while  women  stayed  up  and  brewed  tea 
and  talked  of  their  night  visitor.  When  Mary 
awoke  in  the  morning,  the  events  of  the  night 
before  were  like  a  dream  to  her,  and  though  the 
women  questioned  her  closely  and  eagerly  she 
was  able  to  give  them  little  or  nothing  of  the 
satisfaction  for  which  they  longed.  It  was  all 
so  strange,  so  unbelievable,  that  she  did  not  dare 
tell  them  all  that  had  really  happened.  There 
were  some  who  said  that  she  must  be  a  spy,  and 
there  were  threats  of  detaining  her,  but  she  made 
it  clear  where  she  lived,  mentioning  the  names 
of  people  whom  several  of  them  knew,  and  so 


A  YAGUE  QUEST  263 

they  put  her  down  as  some  demented  or  half- 
witted creature  who  had  lost  her  way  and  been 
rescued  by  the  trooper  in  grey. 

"  Well,  the  hound  will  have  one  thing  to  his 
credit,"  said  the  husband  of  the  woman  at 
whose  house  she  had  slept. 

Her  head  clear,  the  girl  was  anxious  now  to 
return  to  her  home.  The  busy  little  matron,  still 
suspecting  her  sanity,  insisted  on  going  with  her 
as  far  as  the  train,  where  with  many  head-shakes 
and  mysterious  comments,  she  put  Mary  in 
charge  of  the  conductor  and  went  away  trembling 
for  the  safety  of  her  protegee. 

The  whole  Woods  household  was  in  an  uproar 
of  excitement  and  Nannie  was  blaming  herself 
keenly  for  negligence  when  Mary  walked  in. 

"  Oh,  Mary,  Mary,'-  cried  her  friend  at  sight  of 
her,  "  where  have  you  been  ?  YouVe  given  us 
such  a  fright.  We've  searched  everywhere  for 
you." 

But  Mary  only  smiled  and  kept  her  counsel. 
"  I  had  to  go  away,"  she  said. 

"  What  time  did  you  leave  ?  " 

Mary  smiled  again.  A  little  later  a  message 
came  from  Bradford  Waters  saying,  "  Have  you 
found  Mary  yet  ?  " 

Kannie  blushed.  "  We  thought  you  had  gone 
home,  and  so  we  went  there." 

"  I  was  not  at  home,"  was  the  only  answer. 


264  THE  FANATICS 

Whatever  it  may  have  meant,  the  girl  herself 
was  never  able  to  explain  it,  but  Mary  saw  no 
more  visions  and  she  was  happier. 

The  puzzle  was  deep  in  Robert's  mind  as  he 
rode  away  from  the  girl,  leaving  her  to  the 
mercies  of  the  gaping  townspeople.  He  had  no 
doubt  that  they  would  treat  her  kindly  and  send 
her  home  in  safety.  But  the  thought  that  held 
him  and  made  him  forget  even  the  pain  in  his 
arm  that  grew  and  grew  was  how  she  had  come 
there.  How  had  she  known  where  to  find  him, 
when  even  the  troopers  themselves  did  not  know 
whither  they  were  tending  ?  Who  gave  the  sim- 
ple, emotional  girl  the  information  that  the  gov- 
ernor of  Ohio  would  have  given  so  much  to  have  ? 
There  was  nothing  in  the  range  of  Robert's  ex- 
perience to  explain  the  phenomenon,  so  although 
he  hugged  the  memory  of  her  presence  to  his 
consciousness,  he  gave  up  speculation  to  wait  for 
that  later  day  when  he  had  said  she  would  tell 
him.  His  thoughts  now  had  time  to  revert  to 
his  wound,  and  he  found  that  his  sleeve  was 
soaked  with  blood  that  was  fast  stiffening  in 
spite  of  the  constant  downpour.  The  absorption 
of  his  attention  no  longer  kept  his  misery  in  sub- 
ordination. He  began  to  feel  fainter  and 
fainter,  but  clenched  his  teeth  and  laid  his  head 
upon  the  neck  of  his  good  mare.  A  mile  more, 
and  the  sound  of  moving  men  came  to  his  ears. 


A  VAGUE  QUEST  265 

Then  he  gained  upon  them  faster  and  knew  that 
they  had  halted  for  the  night.  His  head  was 
ringing  like  a  chime  of  bells.  His  heart  throbbed 
painfully  and  his  tongue  was  parched.  Heavier 
and  heavier  he  lay  upon  the  mare's  neck,  and 
when  finally  the  animal  halted  in  the  hastily  im- 
provised camp,  it  was  an  inert  body  that  had 
to  be  lifted  from  her  back. 

Already  Mary  was  quietly  sleeping  in  the 
friendly  house  and  no  dream  or  vision  told  her 
of  the  lover  who  was  to  ride  no  more  with  John 
Morgan,  but  unknown,  was  to  be  nursed  back  to 
life  by  a  good-hearted  farmer  and  his  wife. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  HOMECOMINO   OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

Through  the  newspapers,  and  an  occasional 
letter  from  the  field,  Bradford  Waters  was  kept 
advised  of  the  movements  of  his  son.  With  his 
regiment,  he  had  taken  part  in  the  engagements  at 
Pittsburg  Landing,  and  in  all  the  active  opera- 
tions of  the  Army  of  Ohio,  or,  as  it  was  finally 
rechristened,  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland.  He 
had  distinguished  himself  in  the  terrible  fight  of 
the  19th  of  July,  and  it  was  as  a  captain  that  he 
lay  with  his  company  at  Chattanooga  Creek,  en- 
couraging his  men  by  example  not  to  flinch  under 
the  awful  fire  which  the  Confederate  batteries 
poured  upon  them. 

Dorbury  knew  the  privations  through  which 
her  boys  were  going,  the  long  marches  when  both 
rest  and  refreshment  were  denied,  the  hardships 
of  camp  and  field  and  the  heroism  of  patient  en- 
durance. Then  began  that  gradual  turn  of  senti- 
ment and  feeling  for  which  the  battle  of  Pitts- 
burg Landing  and  Morgan's  raid  had  proved  the 
cue.      Another    wave    of    enthusiasm    for    her 

266 


HOMECOMING  OF  THE  CAPTAIN    267 

patriotic  sons  swept  over  the  town,  and  this  time, 
had  permanent  effect.  Even  Davies  scoffed  no 
longer  and  spoke  of  "  our  boys  "  in  a  tone  that 
led  Waters  to  forgive  all  his  past  transgressions. 

Tom  had  always  been  a  favorite  at  home,  but 
men  spoke  his  name  now  with  a  new  affection. 
After  each  new  engagement  in  which  his  regi- 
ment was  known  to  have  taken  a  part,  there 
were  numerous  inquiries  at  the  Waters  house  as 
to  how  *'the  captain"  had  fared.  He  was  no 
longer  a  family  idol.  He  had  become  a  public 
hero. 

This  pride  in  a  young  man's  success,  is,  after 
all,  of  the  vanity  which  is  human.  Something 
of  credit  seems  to  accrue  to  the  man  himself 

when  he  can  say,  "  What !     Captain ,  why 

I  knew  him  when  he  was  a  boy ! " 

Behind  closed  doors,  Stephen  Van  Doren  sat 
and  read  the  papers.  He  had  the  largeness  of 
heart  that  made  him  respect  a  brave  man  wher- 
ever placed,  and  now  he  felt  a  real  pride  in  the 
son  of  his  enemy.  To  be  sure,  in  his  heart,  he 
had  misgivings  and  wished  time  and  again  that 
he  might  read  something  of  his  OAvn  son  of 
whose  whereabouts  he  knew  nothing.  There 
had  come  one  brief  letter  some  time  before  the 
raid,  and  since  that,  nothing.  Why  couldn't  his 
Bob  be  a  captain,  too  ?  His  anxiety  was  shared 
in  some  degree  by  Mary,  but  the  pride  which 


268  THE  FANATICS 

she  took  in  her  brother  and  which  Nannie  con- 
stantly nourished,  left  her  little  time  for  brooding. 
The  summer  wore  away  amid  rumors  of  bat- 
tles, reconnoissances,  and  skirmishes.  The  golden 
autumn  came,  and  although  so  many  of  the  hus- 
bandmen were  away  reaping  strange  harvests  in  a 
strange  land,  the  land  smiled  with  the  fullness  of 
things,  and  the  ring  of  scythes  could  be  heard  afield. 
Over  the  little  town,  over  the  fair  meadows  that 
surrounded  it,  the  sun  of  plenty  hung  and  drove 
away  the  darkness  that  the  preceding  summer 
had  known.  Morgan  had  come  and  gone  and 
they  felt  no  fear  of  another  such  invasion. 
Terror  was  dead  and  the  people  bent  themselves 
joyously  to  the  task  of  supplying  whatever  wants 
those  at  the  front  expressed.  They  rested  in  a 
content  and  security  that  even  the  imminence  of 
a  battle  at  Mission  Ridge  in  which  their  "  Own  " 
might  be  engaged  failed  wholly  to  destroy. 
Orchard  Knob  had  dealt  kindly  with  them,  and 
they  began  to  think  of  their  soldiers  as  each  an 
Achilles  with  the  vulnerable  heel  secure.  Then 
like  a  tempest  from  a  cloudless  sky  came  the 
news  of  the  battle  of  November  25th,  and  Dor- 
bury  was  silent  from  sheer  amazement.  Could 
this  thing  really  have  happened  to  them  and 
theirs  ?  They  looked  down  the  list  of  the  dead 
and  wounded  again.  So  many  of  the  names 
were  familiar.     So  many  were  those  whom  they 


HOMECOMING  OF  THE  CAPTAUST    269 

thought  to  see  again.  Tom  Waters,  Captain 
Tom,  could  it  be?  Their  young  hero?  They 
began  to  awake,  and  with  the  awakening  the 
place  became  as  a  house  of  mourning.  The 
bulletin  boards  were  surrounded  by  hushed, 
awe-stricken  men,  while  women  with  white 
faces,  hastened  up  to  hear  the  latest  from  the 
field. 

It  was  Davies,  who  having  heard  the  news, 
went  over  to  break  it  to  Bradford  Waters.  He 
had  not  left  his  ofiice  at  the  warehouse,  and 
only  knew  from  vague  rumors  that  a  battle  had 
taken  place.  He  was  hastening  through  to  get 
out  and  hear  the  particulars,  when  Davies  en- 
tered, his  white  face  speaking  for  him  before  his 
lips  could  utter  a  sound.  Waters  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and  then  sank  back  into  a  chair. 

"  There  has  been  a  battle,  they  tell  me,"  he 
said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Davies,  with  dry  lips. 

"Was — was — Tom's  name  mentioned?"  He 
asked  the  question  mechanically  as  if  he  already 
knew  the  answer  that  was  coming. 

Davies  was  trembling,  the  tears  filled  his  eyes 
as  he  went  over  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's 
shoulder. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "Tom — the  captain's 
name.  Waters,  is  among  the  killed." 

An  ashen  pallor  spread  over  Waters'  seamed 


270  THE  FANATICS 

face  and  his  hard  hands  gripped  the  desk  in  front 
of  him  fiercely.  He  breathed  heavily  but  did 
not  speak. 

**Come,  Bradford,  come  out  in  the  air  with 
me." 

Waters  rose,  but  there  was  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  opening  it  a  messenger  confronted 
him.  It  was  a  telegram  from  Tom's  colonel. 
The  old  man  could  hardly  read  the  words,  his 
hand  trembled  so.  But  he  made  out  that  they 
were  sending  him  home.  Then  Davies  saw  the 
man's  form  straighten  up  and  his  eye  flash  as 
with  a  clear  voice  he  read,  "  Killed,  while  lead- 
ing a  gallant  charge."  "  Thank  God,  Davies,  he 
died  like  a  soldier." 

There  was  not  a  tear  in  Waters'  eye,  though 
pride  and  grief  struggled  for  mastery  in  his 
voice.  Davies,  who  under  all  his  cynical  indif- 
ference was  as  soft-hearted  as  a  woman,  was 
weeping  like  a  child. 

"I  gave  him  unreservedly,"  the  bereaved 
father  went  on,  "  and  he  has  given  me  nothing 
to  regret.  Come  on,  I  must  go  home,  I  must 
set  my  house  in  order  to  receive  my  son,  the 
captain." 

They  went  out  of  the  house  together,  Bradford 
Waters'  face  set  and  firm.  Men  looked  at  him 
shyly  upon  the  street  and  greeted  him  briefly. 
They  knew  how  deeply  he  had  loved  his  son,  and 


HOMECOMIJSrG  OF  THE  CAPTAIN    271 

feared  a  break  down  of  his  self-control.  Men  are 
always  cowards  in  the  face  of  grief.  But  their 
caution  was  unnecessary.  Waters  returned  their 
civility  with  a  poise  of  manner  almost  stern. 
What  had  he  to  weep  for  ?  He  had  laid  his  son 
upon  the  altar,  and  he  had  proven  an  acceptable 
sacrifice.  Other  men  might  weep  for  craven 
sons  who  had  left  the  fighting  to  others  or  who 
had  trembled  under  fire.  As  for  him,  he  must 
be  strong.  He  must  walk  among  men  with  a  high 
head  and  a  step  that  showed  him  worthy  to  be 
the  father  of  such  a  son. 

Davies  left  him  at  the  door  of  his  house.  He 
heard  him  say  as  he  entered,  "You  must  look 
sharp,  Martha,  and  have  everything  in  good 
order.     The  captain  is  coming  home." 

The  light  was  fast  fading  from  the  room  where 
Waters  sat  down,  but  a  ray  of  gold  came  in 
through  the  window  and  touched  the  pictured 
face  of  the  dead  soldier  in  its  place  on  the 
mantel.  The  father  rose  and  taking  it  down 
held  it  close  to  his  breast.  "  I  gave  you  to  them, 
boy,"  he  murmured,  "  and  they  took  you,  but 
they  cannot,  they  can  never  take  the  memory  of 
you  from  me." 

Some  one  knocked,  and  a  moment  later  Martha 
came  in,  saying,  "  A  gentleman  to  see  you,  Mr. 
Waters." 

With  perfect  self-possession  he  passed  into  the 


272  THE  FANATICS 

next  room,  where  in  the  dimness  a  man  stood 
awaiting  him. 

"  I  have  dared  to  come,  Bradford,"  said  Stephen 
Yan  Doren's  voice,  "  because  I  knew,  and  we 
both  loved  the  boy.  I  thought  maybe  we 
could  shake  hands  over  the  memory  of  a  brave 
soldier." 

Waters'  form  trembled  like  an  aspen.  He 
paused  in  silence,  and  the  moment  was  full  of  im- 
port. It  was  to  say  what  the  course  of  his  whole 
future  life  would  be.  Whether  the  iron  of  his 
nature  would  be  melted  or  annealed  by  the  fire 
through  which  he  was  passing.  He  took  a  step 
forward  and  grasped  Yan  Doren's  outstretched 
hand. 

"  I  am  glad  you  came,  Stephen,"  he  said ;  "  he 
was  a  brave  boy,  and  you  loved  him,  too." 

"  No  one  could  help  loving  him.  He  was  one 
man  among  a  thousand  who  was  fine  enough  for 
the  sacrifice.  Whether  my  son  be  alive  or  dead, 
may  I  always  have  as  little  right  to  sorrow  for 
him  as  you  have  for  yours  to-night." 

Stephen  Yan  Doren's  voice  was  low,  earnest 
and  impressive,  and  it  broke  down  something  that 
had  stood  up  very  hard  and  stern  in  Bradford 
Waters'  spirit.  The  tears  welled  up  into  his  eyes 
and  fell  unheeded  down  his  cheeks.  He  wrung 
Yan  Doren's  hand. 

"  You  must  stay  and  talk  to  me  of  him,  of  both 


HOMECOMING  OF  THE  CAPTAIN    273 

of  them.  Our  boys  fought  on  different  sides, 
Stephen,  but  they  were  both  ours." 

"In  a  time  like  this,  before  an  example  of 
bravery,  we  forget  sides  and  differences  and  only 
remember  our  boys  and  our  love  for  them." 

For  awhile  they  sat  and  talked  of  the  dead, 
and  of  him  of  whose  whereabouts  they  as  yet 
knew  nothing,  and  Waters'  heart  was  lightened 
and  softened. 

"  You  must  go  away,"  he  said  at  last  to  his 
visitor,  "I  have  another  thing  that  I  must  do. 
Maybe,  after  all,  Stephen,  there  is  a  deeper 
meaning  in  this  sacrifice  than  either  of  us  yet 
sees." 

"  May  God  grant  it,"  was  the  fervent  response. 

"When  you  hear  from  Bob,  let  me  know  at 
once.  You  know  he  was  Tom's  friend,"  he  added, 
almost  joyously. 

As  soon  as  Yan  Doren  was  gone,  he  gave  the 
servant  some  directions,  and  then  set  out  for 
Nathan  Woods'  house,  which  was  no  less  than 
his  own  a  place  of  bereavement.  The  entire 
household  was  grief-stricken.  The  two  girls  bad 
mingled  their  tears  and  sought  vainly  to  comfort 
each  other  in  their  sorrow.  Mary  was  fairly  ex- 
hausted from  her  grief,  and  Nannie,  seeing  that, 
recovered  herself  sufficiently  to  minister  to  the 
weaker  girl. 

When  Mary  found  out  that  her  father  was  be- 


274  THE  FANATICS 

low  and  asking  for  her,  she  sprang  up  with  wild 
eyes  and  fluttering  heart. 

"  Oh,  he  has  come  to  reproach  me,"  she  said. 
"  He  will  never  forgive  me." 

"  There  is  no  reproach  in  his  face,  Mary.  I 
think  he  wants  you  to  be  with  him  when  Tom 
comes  home." 

Nannie's  voice  reassured  her,  and  together  they 
went  down  hand  in  hand.  When  his  daughter 
came  into  the  room,  Bradford  Waters  held  forth 
his  arms,  and  with  a  cry  that  was  half  grief,  half 
joy,  she  flung  herself  into  them. 

"  Father,  father,"  she  sobbed,  "  what  shall  we 
do  without  him  ?  " 

"  What  would  his  country  have  done  without 
him,  my  dear  ?  It  has  taken  him,  and  we  must 
give  him  ungrudgingly." 

Nannie  was  leaving  the  room,  but  with  a  new 
softness,  a  quality  his  voice  had  never  known,  he 
put  out  his  hand  to  her. 

"Come,  my  other  daughter,"  he  said,  "you 
loved  him  too." 

For  the  three,  then,  there  was  no  past,  no  dif- 
ference, no  wrong.  They  were  all  members  of 
one  family  bound  more  strongly  by  a  great  love 
and  a  great  grief.  There  was  a  strange  similarity 
apparent  in  the  attitude  of  Nannie  and  Bradford 
Waters  towards  Tom's  death.  While  Mary 
thought  almost  solely  of  the  brother  she  had  lost, 


HOMECOMmG  OF  THE  CAPTAIN    275 

they  both  seemed  to  say,  "  We  are  glad  to  give 
him,  since  we  may  give  him  thus." 

"  Come,  let  us  go  home,"  said  "Waters,  "  there 
is  much  to  do.  Mary,  come.  Nannie,  you  must 
go  with  us.  We  must  go  and  make  ready  to  re- 
ceive the  captain." 

And  together  they  went  with  him  to  receive 
the  captain. 

The  strange  idea  took  Bradford  Waters  to  pre- 
pare for  his  son's  homecoming  as  if  the  dead 
could  know.  Perhaps  there  did  remain  to  him 
some  of  the  mysticism  to  which  his  New  England 
birth  and  ancestry  gave  him  right.  It  would  not 
have  assorted  illy  with  his  bleak  nature.  Per- 
haps he  believed  that  Tom  would  know.  How- 
ever it  was,  he  had  determined  that  all  should 
be  quite  as  the  young  man  would  have  liked  it 
had  he  come  home  with  conscious  eyes  to  see  and 
light  with  pleasure  at  what  he  saw. 

To  Mary  the  house  was  very  desolate,  and  a 
rush  of  sad  emotions  swept  over  her  as  she  looked 
at  the  familiar  things  arranged  by  an  alien  hand. 

"  Tom  would  hardly  know  the  place  now,  if  he 
could  see  it,"  she  told  her  father. 

But  he  replied,  "  Never  mind,  never  mind,  it 
shall  all  be  set  right  before  he  comes.  He  shall 
find  nothing  to  his  distaste." 

The  saddest  duty  they  had  was  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  room.     The  old  man  still  followed  his 


276  THE  FANATICS 

strange  whim,  and  had  the  chamber  arranged  as 
if  a  living  guest  were  to  occupy  it.  The  bed  was 
laid  as  Tom  would  have  had  it  laid,  and  the  fresh 
sheets  turned  back  as  if  to  receive  his  tired  form. 
In  the  vases  was  the  late  golden-rod,  always  a 
great  favorite  with  him.  But  on  his  pillows  were 
the  marks  of  tears  which  E'annie  had  shed  as  she 
smoothed  their  soft  whiteness,  and  knew  that  his 
brown  head  would  never  press  them  again. 

To  her  a  great  change  had  come.  In  spite  of 
the  pride  and  fortitude  which  bore  her  up,  the 
light  and  spontaneity  had  gone  out  of  her  life. 
She  might  laugh  again,  but  it  would  never  be 
with  the  old  free  ring.  In  spirit,  she  was  already 
Tom's  wife,  and  she  was  now  as  much  widowed 
as  any  woman  who  had  followed  her  husband  to 
the  grave.  That  she  bore  her  burden  better  than 
Mary,  was  largely  due  to  the  practical  strength 
of  her  love  for  Tom.  Had  he  lived,  she  would 
have  been  glad  to  welcome  and  help  him.  As  he 
was  dead,  she  was  no  less  his  and  waited  the 
time  when  she  might  join  him.  Mary  might 
weep  for  him,  but  she  would  wait  for  him,  be- 
lieving that  no  such  love  as  hers  was  given  to 
mortals  to  wither  and  die  without  fruition.  This 
love  held  her  so  utterly  above  ordinary  opinions 
and  conventions  that  she  did  not  think  to  ask 
what  would  be  said  of  her  entering  her  lover's 
house  as  one  of  the  family.     It  was  nothing  to 


HOMECOMING  OF  THE  CAPTAIN    277 

her.  It  was  a  matter  of  course.  There  was  a 
certain  joy  in  feeling  that  she  had  the  right  to 
help  and  in  seeing  hour  after  hour  that  Tom's 
father  and  sister  leaned  more  and  more  upon  her 
strength. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  after  the  news  of  the 
battle  that  Tom's  body  was  brought  home,  one 
mute  mourner  accompanying  it — Nigger  Ed. 
Those  were  strenuous  times  and  there  was  no 
opportunity  for  fine  courtesies,  for  escorts  and 
officer  pall-bearers,  even  for  that  brave  one,  but 
the  flag  was  wrapped  around  him,  the  flag  he  had 
fought  and  died  for. 

His  father  was  very  calm  as  he  looked  at  the 
boyish  face  so  cold  and  still  before  him.  Death 
had  been  kind  to  the  soldier  and  had  come 
quickly,  leaving  him  almost  unaltered.  He  lay 
as  if  he  had  fallen  asleep  with  bright  dreams  of 
a  purposeful  to-morrow.  There  was  none  of  the 
horror  or  dread  of  battle  impressed  upon  his 
marble  countenance,  nothing  that  could  cause  the 
woman  who  loved  him  best  of  all  to  shrink  from 
him. 

Bradford  Waters  stooped  and  kissed  his  son's 
brow.  There  was  a  smile  on  his  own  lips. 
Even  Mary  forgot  to  weep.  This  was  the  maj- 
esty, the  beauty  of  death.  Nannie  hovered  over 
him  as  she  would  over  a  flower.  They  were 
alone  together — these  three,  when  a  knock,  soft 


278  THE  FANATICS 

and  hesitating,  fell  upon  the  door.  Bradford 
opened  it  to  find  without  the  negro  Ed.  He 
silently  motioned  him  to  enter. 

"  Dey  tor  me  to  gin  you  dis  when  you  was 
settled,"  he  said.  He  handed  Waters  a  letter. 
It  was  from  Colonel  Bassett,  Tom's  commanding 
officer,  and  ran, 

"  Dear  Sir,  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  pay  tribute 
to  the  finest  man  and  most  gallant  gentleman  I 
ever  knew — your  son.  I  wish  I  might  have 
shown  him  the  respect  that  I  feel  and  come  with 
his  body  to  see  it  laid  in  its  last  resting-place,  but 
this  is  war.  I  would  condone  with  you,  sir,  but 
that  I  know  the  father  of  such  a  son  must  be 
proud  to  have  had  him  die  where  and  as  he 
did." 

It  was  a  soldier's  letter  and  though  Waters 
read  it  with  trembling  voice,  his  eyes  glowed  and 
he  looked  at  the  still  form  as  if  to  say,  "  I  would 
not  have  had  it  otherwise." 

Ed  was  still  standing,  waiting  for  the  father  to 
speak.  But  Waters  said  nothing.  The  negro 
shifted  uneasily,  then  he  said  anxiously,  *'  Is  you 
mad  at  me,  Mistah  Watahs  ?  Has  de  cunnel  said 
anythin'?  Dey  wouldn't  have  sont  me  home 
wid  him,  but  I  baiged,  'cause  I  kinder  thought 
you'd  ravah  have  somebody — dat  knowed  him — 
bring  him  back." 

Waters  reached  out  and  grasped  the  black 


HOMECOMING  OF  THE  CAPTAIN    279 

man's  hand.  "  Why,  God  bless  you  forever  and 
ever,"  he  said. 

The  privacy  of  the  family  even  with  its  dead 
could  not  long  be  maintained.  Dorbury  had 
suspended  business.  This  hero  was  theirs  as  well 
as  his  family's.  They  filled  the  sidewalks,  they 
surged  at  the  doors.  They  would  see  him.  They 
would  bring  their  flowers  to  lay  beside  his  bier. 
He  belonged  to  them,  to  them,  who  had  helped 
to  send  him  forth  and  had  cheered  his  departure. 
Bradford  Waters  should  not  be  selfish  in  his 
grief.  The  boys  from  the  factories  and  ware- 
houses came,  and  also  from  the  shops,  those  who 
had  known  him  and  those  who  had  not.  All 
men  know  a  hero.  And  the  father  said,  "  Let 
them  come  in,  he  will  be  glad  to  see  them." 

And  so  "  the  captain  "  came  home. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  TROUBLESOME  SECRET 

For  a  long  time  curiosity  was  rampant  in  a 
little  country  district  not  very  far  from  Cincin- 
nati. It  was  the  proverbial  rural  locality  where 
every  one  knows  or  wishes  to  know  the  business 
of  every  one  else,  and  is  offended  if  he  doesn't. 
In  this  particular  place,  the  object  of  interest  was 
a  white  farmhouse  set  forward  on  the  road,  and 
fronting  ample  grounds  both  of  field  and  garden. 
It  was  the  home  of  John  Metzinger,  a  pros- 
perous German  husbandman  and  his  good  wife, 
Gretchen.  They  were  pleasant,  easy-going  peo- 
ple, warm-hearted  and  generous.  Their  neigh- 
bors had  always  looked  upon  them  with  favor, 
until  one  day — it  was  early  in  August,  the  eye  of 
suspicion  fell  upon  the  house.  Those  who  had 
lived  near  the  Metzingers,  and  those  who  merely 
passed  upon  the  road  to  and  from  town  began  to 
point  questioning  fingers  at  the  place  and  to  look 
askance  at  it.  The  gossips  shook  their  heads  and 
whispered  together. 

It  all  began  with  one  woman  who  had  uncere- 
280 


A  TKOUBLESOME  SECEET         281 

moniously  "  dropped  in  "  on  the  couple ;  "  drop- 
ping in"  consisting  of  pushing  open  the  door 
and  entering  unannounced  by  the  formality  of  a 
knock.  The  easy-going  neighbor  had  pursued 
this  course  only  to  find  the  door  of  an  inner 
room  hastily  closed  and  the  good  wife  profuse  in 
embarrassed  expostulations.  Mrs.  Metzinger  was 
not  good  at  dissimulation,  and  her  explanation 
that  the  room  was  all  torn  up  for  she  was  house- 
cleaning  served  but  to  arouse  her  visitor's  sus- 
picion. In  her  own  words  as  she  told  it  many 
times  later,  she  said  with  fine  indignation, 
"  Think  o'  her  sayin'  to  me  that  she  was  cleanin' 
house,  an'  she  with  as  spick  an'  span  a  white 
apern  on  as  ever  you  see.  Says  I  to  her,  '  Ain't 
you  pickin'  out  a  funny  time  to  clean,  Mrs. 
Metzinger?'  and  she  says  with  that  Dutch 
brogue  o'  hers,  '  Oh,  I  cleans  anydimes  de  place 
gets  dirty.'  Then  I  says  ca'm  like,  because  I've 
alius  liked  that  woman,  *  I  should  think  you'd 
get  yer  apern  dirty,'  an'  all  of  a  sudden  she 
jerked  it  off  an'  stood  there  grinnin'  at  me ;  but 
that  was  what  give  her  away,  for  lo,  an'  behold, 
her  dress  was  as  clean  as  my  bran'  new  calico. 
Then  I  says,  '  Well,  never  min',  I'll  just  come  in 
an'  help  you,'  an'  would  you  believe  it,  that 
woman  got  right  in  my  way  an'  wouldn't  let  me 
go  in  that  room,  all  the  time  jabbering  some- 
thing about  *  Nod  troublin'  me.'     Right  then  an' 


282  THE  FA:^rATICS 

there,  thinks  I,  there's  something  wrong  in  that 
room." 

She  closed  her  remarks  as  one  who  says, 
"There's  murder  behind  that  door." 

Her  hearers  were  struck  by  her  tragic  presen- 
tation of  the  case,  and  they  too,  began  to  watch 
for  signs  of  guilt  in  the  Germans.  These  were 
soon  plentiful.  None  was  more  convincing  than 
that  a  room  that  had  always  been  open  to  the 
light  had  now  its  blinds  closed.  Some  one  had 
said  too,  that  they  had  seen  the  doctor's  gig  at 
the  door  one  night,  and  had  waited  for  him  to 
come  out.  But  on  questioning  him,  as  any  man 
has  a  right  to  do,  "  Who's  sick,  doctor  ?  "  he  had 
sprung  into  his  vehicle,  put  whip  to  his  horse 
and  dashed  away  without  answering.  This  in 
itself,  looked  dark.  For  why  should  a  doctor  of 
all  men,  refuse  to  be  questioned  about  his  pa- 
tients ?  The  little  scattered  community  for 
three  or  four  miles  and  even  further  up  and 
down  the  road  was  awe-struck  and  properly  in- 
dignant. Such  communities  have  no  respect  for 
reticence. 

Meanwhile  the  trouble  went  on,  and  the  Metz- 
ingers  grew  in  disfavor.  What  had  been  friendly 
greetings  degenerated  into  stiff  nods  or  grew 
into  clumsily  veiled  inquiries.  While  their 
neighbors  lost  sleep  asking  each  other  what 
horror  was  going  on  behind  those  closed  doors, 


A  TROUBLESOME  SECRET         283 

the  simple  couple  went  on  about  their  duty  and 
kept  their  counsel.  It  was  really  not  so  much 
the  horror  that  the  community  resented  but  that 
the  particulars  of  it  were  being  kept  from  them. 

If  the  Metzingers  could  have  told  their  story, 
it  would  have  proved,  after  all,  a  very  short  and 
simple  one.  It  would  have  been  to  the  effect 
that  late  one  night  towards  the  end  of  July, 
they  had  been  awakened  by  the  tramping  of  feet 
and  a  knocking  upon  their  door.  Going  thither, 
they  had  found  four  men  unkempt  and  mud- 
stained,  who  bore  between  them  another,  evi- 
dently wounded.  They  had  brought  him  and 
laid  him  upon  the  sofa,  and  then  with  promises, 
that  were  half  threats,  had  left  him  in  their  care. 
They  came  then  to  know  who  their  visitors  were ; 
some  of  "  Morgan's  terrible  men."  Their  prom- 
ises to  respect  the  farmer's  stock  had  not  been 
needed  to  secure  attention  for  their  wounded 
comrade,  for  the  good  wife's  heart  had  gone  out 
already  to  the  young  fellow  who  lay  there  so 
white  and  drabbled  with  blood. 

John  Metzinger  Avould  have  told,  though  his 
good  wife  would  never  have  mentioned  it,  how 
all  that  night  and  the  next  day,  Gretchen  had 
hovered  over  the  wounded  man,  bandaging  his 
arm,  bathing  it,  and  doing  what  she  could  to 
ease  the  pain,  while  the  sufferer  muttered  strange 
things  in  his  sleep  and  tossed  like  a  restless  child. 


284  THE  FANATICS 

They  could  not  get  a  doctor  until  the  next 
night,  for  they  knew  that  all  must  proceed  with 
secrecy,  and  when  the  physician  came,  the  fever 
had  already  set  in  and  the  chances  for  the  man's 
recovery  seemed  very  slight. 

They  could  have  told  too,  of  the  doctor's  long 
fight  with  the  fever,  and  what  the  gossips  did 
not  know,  how  one  night  two  physicians  came 
and  amputated  the  wounded  arm  at  the  elbow. 
Then  of  the  long  fight  for  life  through  the  hot 
August  days,  of  the  terrible  nights  when  Death 
seemed  crowding  into  the  close  room  and  the 
sufferer  lay  gasping  for  breath.  But  they  told 
nothing.  Silently  they  went  their  way,  grieved 
by  the  distrust  of  those  about  them,  but  unfalter- 
ing in  their  course.  And  when  Yan  Doren  first 
looked  up  weakly  enough  into  the  German 
woman's  face,  his  eyes  full  of  the  gratitude  he 
could  not  speak,  both  she  and  her  John  were  re- 
paid for  all  that  they  had  suffered. 

The  woman  fell  upon  her  knees  by  the  bed- 
side saying,  "  Dank  Got,  dank  Got,  he  vill  gid 
veil  now,  Shon,"  and  "  Shon"  who  was  very  big 
and  very  much  a  man,  pressed  his  wife's  hand 
and  went  behind  the  door  to  look  for  something 
that  was  not  there. 

With  the  cooler  weather  of  autumn  came 
more  decided  convalescence  to  the  young  trooper, 
but  the  earliest  snows  had  fallen  before  he  was 


A  TEOUBLESOME  SECRET         285 

able  to  creep  to  the  door  that  looked  out  upon 
the  road.  He  was  only  the  shadow  of  his  former 
self.  Mrs.  Metzinger  looked  at  him,  full  of 
pity. 

"I  guess  you  petter  led  de  toctor  wride  by 
your  home  now.  Dey  vill  vant  to  hear  from 
you." 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet,"  he  protested.  "  It  would 
cause  my  father  too  much  anxiety,  and  some 
others  perhaps,  too  much  joy  to  know  how  I  am 
faring." 

"  Your  poor  fader,  dough,  he  vill  be  vorried 
aboud  you." 

"  Father  knows  the  chances  of  war  and  he  will 
not  begin  to  worry  yet.  It  would  grieve  him  so 
much  more  to  know  that  I  am  out  of  it  all  so 
soon." 

"  Mister  Eobert,"  said  the  woman  impressively, 
"you  don't  know  faders.  Dey  vas  yoost  like 
modders,  pretty  near,  und  modders,  alvays  vants 
to  know ;  if  he  is  veil,  she  is  glad  und  she  dank 
Got  for  dat.  If  he  is  det,  she  vants  to  gry  und 
gry  ofer  dose  leedle  shoes  dot  he  used  to  vear." 

"He  shall  know,  he  shall  know,  Mrs.  Metz- 
inger, and  very  soon,  for  I  am  going  home  to 
him  and  his  joy  will  make  him  forget  how  long 
he  has  waited." 

"  Yes,  I  guess  maype  dot  is  so." 

Robert  had  divined  more  by  instinct  than  by 


286  THE  FANATICS 

any  outward  demonstration  of  his  hosts  that  his 
secret  stay  in  the  house  had  aroused  in  their 
neighbors  some  sort  of  feeling  against  these  peo- 
ple. He  was  perfectly  sure  that  should  he  write 
to  his  father,  he  would  come  to  him  in  spite  of 
everything,  and  at  any  stir  or  unusual  commo- 
tion about  the  house,  what  was  only  smouldering 
now  might  burst  into  flame.  So,  although  it 
wrung  his  heart  to  do  so,  living  within  sixty 
miles  of  his  father,  he  kept  his  lips  closed  and 
gave  no  sign.  His  heart  had  gone  out  to  these 
people  who  had  sacrificed  so  much  for  him,  and 
he  wanted  to  do  something  in  return  for  them. 
At  first,  because  of  his  very  weakness,  they  had 
forborne  to  question  him  about  his  home  and  peo- 
ple, and  when  he  was  strong  enough  to  act,  he 
had  unconsciously  accepted  this  silence  as  his  sac- 
rifice, without  divining  that  he  was  not  the  real 
sufferer,  not  the  real  bearer  of  the  burden. 

He  had  promised  that  he  would  go  home  soon, 
but  the  case  had  been  a  severe  one,  and  it  was 
December  before  he  dared  to  venture  out  beyond 
the  gate.  Sometimes,  when  the  days  were  warm 
and  bright,  he  would  sit  wrapped  up  on  the 
porch  at  the  side,  for  the  need  of  secrecy  gone, 
the  Metzingers  were  openly  and  humanly  un- 
humble.  They  bowed  proudly,  even  jauntily  to 
their  detractors,  while  the  priest  and  the  Levites 
passed  by  on  the   other  side.     There   were  no 


A  TKOUBLESOME  SECRET  287 

good  Samaritans  about  save  the  Metzingers  them- 
selves, and  their  little  devices  might  have  gone 
unobserved,  but  that  the  priest  and  the  Levites 
were  curious  people,  and  at  last,  came  over  to 
question. 

"Who  is  the  sick  young  man?"  they  ques- 
tioned. 

"He  iss  a  friend  of  ours  from  de  var,"  Mrs. 
Metzinger  answered  them. 

"  We'd  like  to  talk  to  him,"  they  volunteered. 

"  No,  he  must  not  talk  to  beoples,  not  yet," 
was  the  answer. 

"  Why  don't  he  wear  his  uniform  ?  "  Eobert 
wore  a  suit  of  "  Shon's  "  jeans. 

"  It  was  yoost  mint  and  all  spoilt  mit  blood." 

But  they  looked  at  Robert  askance,  and  the 
gossip  which  for  awhile  from  inaction  had  fal- 
tered, sprang  up  anew.  Who  was  he  ?  Why  so 
little  about  him  ?  Why  had  they  kept  the  secret 
so  long  ? 

The  good  people  saw  with  dismay  what  they 
had  done.  They  had  only  aroused  the  trouble 
which  they  had  hoped  to  allay.  Van  Doren  saw 
their  trouble  and  determined  immediately  to  re- 
lieve them. 

"  I  am  going  home  now,"  he  told  them  one 
day. 

"  You  are  not  yet  so  strong." 

"  Oh,  yes  I  am.     I'm  quite  a  giant  now." 


288  THE  FAI^ATICS 

"Yat  you  dinks  Shon?  Iss  he  strong 
enough  ?  " 

"I  dinks  he  gan  stay  here  so  long  as  he 
vants." 

"  But  I  am  going,  my  good  friends,  it's  best  for 
us  all." 

"  Yy  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  how  the  neighbors  look  at  me 
and  I  have  seen  how  they  look  at  you.  You 
shan't  hurt  yourselves  any  longer." 

"  Dat  iss  not  right.  We  care  nodings  for  de 
neighbors.     Ye  minds  our  own  business." 

Mrs.  Metzinger's  husband  said  something  under 
his  breath,  only  a  word  it  was,  but  it  made  his 
wife  gasp  and  cry,  "  Shon,  for  shame  on  you  !  " 

"I'm  going,"  Eobert  went  on,  "either  with 
your  consent  or  without.  I  don't  know  how  I'm 
ever  going  to  thank  you.  You've  both  been  so 
good.  It's  nasty  in  a  case  like  this  to  think  of 
pay.  I  can't  do  it  decently,  but  I'm  going  to  do 
it.  It's  the  nearest  way  a  brute  of  a  man  can 
come  to  showing  his  appreciation." 

"  ]^o  pay,"  said  John. 

"  Not  vun  cent,"  said  his  wife. 

"  Ye  had  some  gompany,"  Gretchen  put  in. 

Eobert  smiled  on;  they  were  so  like  big 
children. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  two  cheat  me  out 
of  showing  my  gratitude  by  any  such  excuse." 


A  TKOUBLESOME  SECEET         289 

Gretchen  wept  and  John  caused  his  wife  to 
exclaim  again,  but  it  was  of  no  use,  and  just  at 
dusk,  the  old  carryall  took  him  away  to  the  sta- 
tion, still  in  his  host's  suit,  the  empty  sleeve 
turned  up,  and  the  stump  of  arm  flapping  at  his 
side. 

It  was  about  an  hour  after  John  had  gone 
with  Robert  to  the  station,  that  Mrs.  Metzinger 
heard  footsteps,  and  going  to  the  door  saw  sev- 
eral men  without. 

"  We  want  that  man  that's  stay  in'  here,"  said 
the  leader. 

"  He's  yoost  gone  to  his  home  in  Dorbury." 

"In  Dorbury — why  we  thought — what  side 
was  he  on  ?  " 

Mrs.  Metzinger  drew  herself  up  in  dignified 
anger  and  said,  **  I  don'd  dink  Got  has  any  sides, 
Deacon  Callvell,"  then  she  slammed  the  door, 
and  the  deacon  and  his  "  Committee  "  went  away 
feeling  small,  and  glad  that  it  was  dark,  while 
Mrs.  Metzinger  rocked  out  her  pious  anger  until 
the  floor  cried  again. 


CHAPTER  XXIY 

EGBERT  VAN  DOREN  GOES  HGME 

There  was  no  blare  of  trumpets,  no  popular 
acclaim  to  greet  Robert  Van  Doren's  home- 
coming. He  entered  Dorbury  alone  and  unwel- 
comed,  weary  and  sick  at  heart.  It  was  half -past 
eight  o'clock  when  his  train  drew  into  the  famil- 
iar station,  and  the  winter  night  had  settled 
heavy  and  black.  A  familiar  form  came  towards 
him  as  he  walked  down  the  platform,  and  sadly 
changed  as  he  was,  he  saw  the  light  of  recogni- 
tion in  the  man's  eyes.  The  next  instant,  he  was 
looking  at  the  stern  lines  of  an  averted  face.  He 
shuddered  and  hurried  on  as  rapidly  as  his  weak- 
ness would  allow.  Although  he  had  often  in  his 
moments  of  convalescence  pictured  dimly  how  he 
would  be  received  at  home,  yet  the  actuality  was 
so  much  stronger  and  harsher  than  any  anticipa- 
tion of  it  could  be  that  he  was  quite  unmanned. 
For  the  first  time  it  came  to  him  that  he  was  an 
alien  in  the  land  of  his  adoption,  and  even  upon 
the  dark  streets,  he  shrank  from  the  people  he 
met  because  he  knew  his  face  would  be  to  them 

290 


YAN  DOKEN  GOES  HOME         291 

as  a  leper's,  and  even  the  empty  sleeve,  the  badge 
of  honor  to  so  many  of  them,  would  read  only  to 
these  people,  "  Unclean,  unclean." 

He  was  bending  his  steps  towards  his  father's 
house,  absorbed  in  bitter  thoughts,  when  a  sort 
of  divination,  rather  than  the  appearance  of 
things  roused  him  from  his  revery.  He  looked 
around  upon  the  place,  the  houses,  the  lawns,  and 
then  a  lighted  window  caught  his  eye  and  he 
realized  that  he  was  passing  Bradford  Waters' 
house. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  is  back  at  home  ?  "  he  said. 
"  I  caused  her  so  much  grief."  He  passed 
through  the  gate,  and  crept  up  to  the  window. 
The  light  shone  through  a  thin  shade,  but  he 
could  see  nothing  within  the  house.  After  a 
short  while,  however,  he  heard  the  sound  of 
women's  voices,  and  one  was  hers.  Without 
warning,  all  the  pent-up  feeling  of  the  past  three 
years  burst  forth  in  the  cry,  "  Mary  ! " 

"  What's  that  ? "  cried  some  one  within,  but 
there  was  no  answer  save  the  hurried  tread  of 
feet  across  the  floor.  Aware  of  what  he  had 
done,  he  was  hurrying  away,  when  the  front 
door  was  thrown  open,  and  he  saw  her  before 
him  standing  in  a  flood  of  light.  Then  he  could 
not  go.  He  stood  transfixed  until  she  walked 
down  the  steps  to  him  crying, "  Kobert,  Eobert,  I 
was  sure  you  would  come  ! "     And  all  he  could 


292  THE  FANATICS 

do  was  to  bow  his  head  and  murmur,  "  Thank 
God." 

She  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  into  the 
house,  he  unresisting. 

"  Here  is  Eobert,"  she  said  to  ISTannie.  "  Did 
I  not  tell  you  he  would  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  glad  with  you."  Her  greet- 
ing of  Robert  was  tender,  almost  sisterly.  As 
soon  as  she  could  do  so  tactfully,  she  left  the 
room,  and  Yan  Doren's  glance  followed  her 
questioningly.  He  could  not  understand  her 
subdued  manner,  her  sad  face.  Mary  saw  the 
look  in  his  eyes  and  asked, 

"  Do  you  not  know,  then  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  what  is  it?  " 

"  Tom." 

"  Tom— not— dead  ?  " 

"  Dead,  yes." 

"  Killed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  at  Mission  Ridge,  nearly  a  month  ago," 
and  she  told  of  all  that  had  happened,  while  he 
sat  like  one  dazed. 

Finally  he  broke  in,  "  Tom  dead,  I  living,  why 
is  this  ?  Why  this  choice  of  the  brave  instead  of 
the  lukewarm,  the  soldier  instead  of  the  raider  ?  " 

"  Robert,  Robert,  you  are  not  yourself.  I 
weep  for  my  brother,  but  you,  I  have  you 
still." 

For  answer  he  raised  his  empty  sleeve. 


YAN  DOKEK  GOES  HOME         293 

"Ah,  Eobert,  you  don't  know.  I  love  you. 
Here  are  two  arms — ^yours." 

He  kissed  her  cheek  silently,  and  then  a  sound 
made  them  start  apart  and  stare  into  each  other's 
faces  with  parted  lips.  Some  one  was  on  the 
step.  There  was  but  one  person  whom  it  could 
be. 

"Quick,  quick,"  said  Mary,  opening  a  door 
into  the  next  room.  "  In  here."  And  Kobert 
hurried  in  just  as  Bradford  Waters  entered,  find- 
ing Mary  troubled  and  embarrassed.  He  stood 
looking  at  her  with  a  sad  face,  and  then  he  said, 

"Mary,  you  grieve  me  very  much.  Has  all 
the  past  been  so  hard  that  you  cannot  forget  it  ? 
Has  not  the  past  month  proven  that  I  am  a 
changed  man  and  that  you  need  hide  nothing 
from  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father,  forgive  me."  And  going  to  the 
door  she  called,  "  Eobert !  " 

Yan  Doren  came  in  with  a  defiant  look  on  his 
face  which  vanished  at  sight  of  Waters'  out- 
stretched hand. 

"  Why — why — Mr.  Waters,"  he  stammered 
confusedly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  my  boy,  but  I'm  glad  to 
see  you  back,  Kobert." 

Robert  grasped  the  old  man's  hand  and  wrung 
it  warmly.  "  I'm  so  glad  you're  reconciled  to 
me,  you  didn't  like  me  before." 


294  THE  FANATICS 

"  'No  more  of  that,  no  more  of  that.  I  always 
liked  you,  but  I  didn't  like  your  principles.  I've 
seen  sorrow  though,  and  I  look  at  things  differ- 
ently." 

"  Mary  has  told  me  and  it  grieved  me 
much." 

"  You  know  then,  that  the  captain  has  come 
home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  would  to  God  that  I  might  have  come 
like  that." 

"  Tut,  tut,  have  you  been  home  ?  " 

"No,  I  was  on  my  way  there,  when  I  heard 
Mary's  voice  and  stopped." 

"  You  must  go  to  him  at  once  now,  he  will  be 
overjoyed." 

"  Do  you  think  I  dare  go  to  him  myself  ?  I'm 
afraid  he  thinks  me  dead." 

"  I  have  no  doubt.  Let  Mary  go  with  you 
and  break  the  news  to  him.     Go  on." 

Mary  hastened  to  put  on  her  hat  and  cloak, 
and  together  the  two  went  out,  leaving  the  old 
man  standing  by  the  mantel  looking  at  them 
with  strange  tenderness.  Robert  turned  at  the 
door  and  looked  back.  "  You  will  never  know 
what  you  have  done,  Mr.  Waters,  to  make  my 
homecoming  less  than  a  tragedy  to  me,"  he  said 
huskily. 

"  It  was  Tom,  not  I,"  said  Waters  gently. 

The  house  looked  very  dismal  as  Mary  and 


va:^  doeen  goes  home       295 

Kobert  approached  it,  and  the  latter's  heart 
failed  him. 

"  Has  my  father  seemed  to  grieve  much  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  He  has  been  absorbed  and  preoccupied,  but 
his  faith  was  like  mine.  We  knew  you  would 
come  back." 

"I  have  heard  of  the  faith  that  is  stronger 
than  death,  but  I  always  thought  it  a  meaning- 
less phrase  until  now.     Bless  you  both." 

Stephen  Yan  Doren  was  drowsing  by  his 
library  fire  when  Mary  was  admitted,  but  with 
the  courtesy  of  his  kind,  he  rose  and  went  nimbly 
to  meet  her,  apologizing  meanwhile  for  his  dress- 
ing-gown and  slippers. 

"But,  my  dear  child,"  he  exclaimed,  "what 
brings  you  here  at  this  hour  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Yan  Doren,"  Mary  faltered,  her  face  all 
aglow. 

"  Stop,"  he  exclaimed,  "  whether  the  dead  can 
come  to  life  or  not,  no  girl  can  show  a  face  like 
that,  unless  she  has  seen  her  lover.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him,  he  is  here  in  the  hall." 

Yan  Doren  took  a  step  forward,  and  then 
stood  trembling,  but  Kobert  had  thrown  the 
door  open  and  rushed  to  his  father. 

"Father!" 

"  My  boy !  " 

This  was  in  the  days  before  men  grew  too  old 


296  THE  FANATICS 

to  embrace  their  fathers,  and  bearded  cheeks  and 
lips  met.  The  father's  arms  were  about  his  son 
and  the  empty  sleeve  fell  under  his  hand.  He 
held  it  up  and  then  pushed  his  son  from  him. 
His  head  drooped  sadly  for  a  moment,  but  there 
was  a  look  of  exaltation  on  his  face. 

"Father — father,  don't  let  that  grieve  you. 
I — I — lost  it  honorably." 

Stephen  Yan  Doren's  head  went  up  like  a 
bull's  when  he  scents  resistance.  "  Grieve  me," 
he  cried,  and  then  turning  to  Mary,  he  said, 
"  Now,  my  dear,  I  can  show  your  father  that  and 
talk  to  him  upon  more  nearly  equal  terms. 
Why,  boy,  you've  won  your  spurs,  if  you  haven't 
got  them.  To  us  of  the  newer  land,  an  empty 
sleeve,  when  gallantly  won  is  what  the  Victoria 
Cross  is  to  an  Englishman." 

Eobert  flushed  and  moved  away  a  pace  further 
from  his  father.     "  But  you  do  not  know  all." 

"  All  ?  You  said  it  was  won  honestly — that  is 
enough." 

The  young  soldier  looked  appealingly  at  Mary. 
"  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  all,"  he  said. 

"  I  will  go,  Robert,"  she  said ;  "  it  was  wrong 
for  me  to  stay  so  long,  but  this  meeting  has  given 
me  such  joy  as  I  have  never  known  before." 
She  turned  towards  the  door. 

"  You  must  not  go,"  he  cried,  detaining  her, 
"  it  is  for  you  also  to  know.     It  belongs  to  you." 


YAN  DOKEN  GOES  HOME         297 

"Tome?" 

"  To  you — yes." 

"How?" 

"You  remember  that  night  of  nights,"  he 
asked  her  softly.     "  Do  they  know  of  it  ?  " 

"  Xo,  I  have  never  dared  to  tell  them  so  wild 
a  story." 

"  I  will  tell  it  now,  then." 

"  You  may,  Kobert,  they  will  believe  you,  every 
one  will." 

Then  briefly  Kobert  told  his  father  of  the 
strange  meeting  with  Mary  that  had  resulted  in 
his  wound.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  will  say," 
he  ended,  "  and  I  don't  know  what  it  means." 

"It  means  God,"  said  his  father  solemnly. 
"  He  sent  her.  Think  of  it  as  an  old  man's  fancy 
if  you  will,  but  he  lighted  one  of  his  own  torches 
at  the  moment  that  you  might  see  each  other's 
faces." 

"Oh,  Robert,"  cried  Mary.  "  Then  it  was  for 
me?" 

"  Yes,  darling.  Father  forgive  us,  but  Mary 
is  glad." 

"  Why,  Mary,  child,  you  show  more  sense  than 
that  great  hulking,  one-armed  hero." 

"Hero— father!" 

"  The  man  who  is  old  enough  to  have  done  a 
noble  deed  and  is  not  old  enough  to  know  it, 
should  be  sent  into  a  closet  like  a  child." 


298  THE  FAISTATICS 

"  He  does  know  it — he  must  know  it.  Kobert, 
you  must  see  it." 

"  Hero  "  was  the  word  running  through  young 
Yan  Doren's  brain  and  he  did  not  understand. 
He  felt  Mary's  arms  about  him,  he  felt  his 
father's  hand  pressing  his  own  and  his  thoughts 
grew  hazy.  "Hero,"  how  could  he  be  a  hero 
when  he  was  lying  helpless  when  the  best  fight- 
ing was  going  on,  when — though  he  dared  not 
say  it — he  did  not  even  know  if  his  heart  were 
wholly  with  the  cause. 

His  father's  voice  broke  in  upon  his  revery. 
"  Bob,  you  are  the — well,  look  here,  don't  you 
see  what  kind  of  a  man  he  must  be  who  dares  to 
ride  away  from  his  comrades  and  into  the  face  of 
the  enemy,  and  alone,  to  save  a  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes,  don't  you  see,  Rob  ?  "  said  Mary  eagerly. 

"  Why,  I  loved  her,"  said  Eobert.  "  I  loved 
her,  and  forgive  me,  father,  more  than  my  cause." 

"  Unless  you  had  had  that  in  you  that  made 
your  cause  strong  and  noble,  you  could  not  have 
done  it  even  for  love." 

"  Have  I  pleased  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  proud  to  be  your  father." 

"  And  Mary,  I  didn't  want  to  tell  you — are 
you  hurt  ?  " 

"  Hurt  with  the  sort  of  a  hurt  that  a  woman  —  " 
she  started  impulsively  towards  her  lover  and 
then  paused  abashed. 


YAK  DOKEN  GOES  HOME  299 

"  Never  check  a  good  impulse,"  said  old  Yan 
Doren.  "  I  am  now  looking  at  the  portrait  of 
my  grandfather." 

The  two  young  people  improved  the  opportu- 
nity. The  old  man  showed  consideration  in 
the  length  of  time  he  spent  admiring  the  portrait. 
But  a  hurried  knock  on  the  door  recalled  their 
attention. 

A  servant  with  a  frightened  face  entered. 
"  There's  a  lot  of  men  at  the  door,"  he  said. 

"What  do  they  want?"  asked  Yan  Doren 
sternly. 

"  They — they  say  that  there  is  a  rebel  in  here, 
and  they  want  him." 

"  Go  back  to  them  and  say,"  said  the  old  man, 
his  voice  ringing  like  a  trumpet,  "  that  there  is 
no  rebel  here,  but  a  soldier  and  the  son  of  a  sol- 
dier, and  if  they  want  to  see  him,  he  is  at  their 
service  when  he  knows  their  business  with  him." 
The  servant  retired. 

"  The  hounds  have  begun  to  bay  already,"  said 
Kobert,  his  face  set  and  dogged,  though  he  patted 
Mary's  hair  as  she  clung  fearfully  to  him. 

"  The  hounds ! "  said  his  father,  bringing  from 
his  desk  a  brace  of  pistols  that  had  seen  service, 
"  you  mean  the  curs.  The  hounds  know  their 
true  game.     Can  you  use  your  left  hand  ?  " 

"  As  well  as  my  right." 

The  father  tried  vainly  to  hide  his  satisfaction 


300  THE  FAISTATICS 

as  he  handed  his  son  a  weapon.  Outside  a  clamor 
arose,  which  grew  louder  and  louder,  and  the 
servant  came  flying  back.  "  They  say  you  must 
come  out." 

"  So  they  are  afraid  to  chance  it  where  there's 
a  man's  chance,"  said  Robert.  "  Come,  father,  let 
us  go  to  them.  You  are  right,  they  are  curs,  not 
hounds,  after  all." 

Mary  moved  forward  with  them. 

"  l^o,  dear,  stay  here." 

"  I  will  not,  Robert,  I  have  no  fear  for  myself. 
I  am  going  with  you.  If  you  die,  I  do  not  want 
to  live.     I  am  going." 

"  Think  of  your  father." 

"Do  you  think  of  my  brother?  Would  he 
have  me  do  less  ?  '* 

The  cries  were  growing  fiercer  every  moment, 
and  the  father  at  the  door  cried,  "  Come  on,"  and 
stepped  out  as  if  eager  to  meet  a  crowd  of  en- 
thusiastic admirers.  They  passed  along  the  hall, 
threw  open  the  front  door  and  stepped  out  into 
the  blaze  of  light  which  fell  from  the  chandelier 
within.  At  their  appearance  a  hoarse  cry  rose 
from  the  lips  of  the  mob,  for  mob  it  was,  low,  ig- 
norant, infuriated. 

"  There  he  is — the  rebel !  " 

"  Rebel's  too  good  for  him — copperhead's  the 
name ! " 

"  Traitor  1 " 


YAN  DOKEN  GOES  HOME         301 

"Coward!" 

They  stood  calmly  upon  the  steps,  the  three. 
Eobert,  pale  but  dauntless ;  his  father  as  fixed  as 
a  statue,  and  Mary  just  behind  them,  like  a  spirit 
of  Justice,  with  eyes  unbound. 

When  their  attitude  had  somewhat  quieted  the 
tumult,  Stephen  Yan  Doren  spoke,  and  his  voice 
was  calm  and  hard.  "  Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said, 
"  what  is  it  that  you  want  of  us  ?  " 

"  We  want  your  son.  We  want  that  damned 
copperhead  that's  joined  the  rebels  and  been  kill- 
ing our  boys.  That's  what  we  want,"  came  the 
reply  in  fifty  voices. 

"  There  is  no  traitor  and  no  copperhead  here," 
Yan  Doren  went  on.  "  My  son,  it  is  true,  is  here," 
and  he  bowed  to  Kobert  as  if  he  were  delivering 
a  complimentary  address,  "  but  he  is  none  of  the 
things  which  you  name.  He  is  a  man  who  has 
fought  for  his  convictions,  and  has  returned  here 
where  he  has  as  good  a  right  as  any  of  you.  He 
is  here,  I  say,  and  if  any  or  all  of  you  want  him, 
damn  you,  come  and  take  him ! " 

The  old  man's  voice  had  risen,  and  at  the  mo- 
ment both  he  and  Eobert,  as  if  by  a  preconcerted 
signal,  raised  their  pistols  and  levelled  them  at  the 
foremost  ranks  of  the  mob.  Intimidated  at  this 
defiance,  the  crowd  fell  back.  Just  then  a  rock 
hurtled  past  Yan  Doren's  head,  and  crashed 
through  a  window.     The  noise  was  like  an  elec- 


? 


302  THE  FANATICS 

trie  shock  to  the  rabble's  failing  energies,  and 
with  the  cry,  "  Come  on,  rock  them ! "  they  started 
forward  again,  those  behind  forcing  the  front 
ranks. 

"  Try  not  to  kill  any  of  the  fools,"  the  father 
whispered  briefly  to  his  son. 

They  were  both  pressing  their  triggers  and  the 
forward  men  were  on  the  first  step,  when  a  new 
cry,  "  Waters,  Waters ! "  checked  their  advance, 
and  a  man  with  flowing  white  hair  who  had  been 
thrusting  his  way  through  the  crowd,  also 
mounted  the  step.  The  mob  thought  it  had  found 
a  new  champion,  and  again  yelling,  "Waters, 
Waters ! "  rushed  forward,  but  Waters  turned 
and  faced  them,  waving  his  arms. 

"  Back,  back,  you  cowards !  "  he  cried.  They 
paused  in  amazement,  as  he  backed  slowly  up  the 
steps.  When  they  took  in  his  meaning,  they  at- 
tempted another  rush,  but  he  stood  above  them, 
and  suddenly  from  beneath  his  coat  he  tore  a  long 
whip  with  leaden  tipped  thongs. 

"  Back,"  he  cried,  wielding  it  with  terrific  force 
into  the  faces  and  over  the  heads  of  the  leaders. 
"  Take  this,  this  is  for  dogs.  Back  to  your  ken- 
nels, I  say ! " 

His  face  was  terrible,  and  the  men  in  front 
quickly  turned  and  began  fighting  their  way  to 
the  rear.  Others  followed,  and  a  panic  seized 
upon  them.     When  Waters  stood  alone,  and  the 


TAN  DOKEN  GOES  HOME         303 

mob  at  a  safe  distance  began  sullenly  to  gather, 
some  one  shouted,  "  If  it  wasn't  for  your  son's 
sake,  Waters,  we'd  kill  you." 

Waters  indicated  that  he  wished  to  speak, 
and  they  became  silent  with  the  silence  of  watch- 
ful beasts. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  my  son's  sake !  "  he  said. 
"  I  gave  him  for  the  cause  of  right  and  decency, 
and  I  am  willing  to  give  myself.  What  right 
has  any  of  you  who  joins  so  cowardly  an  attack 
as  this  to  take  upon  his  lips  the  name  of  a  brave 
man  ?  Let  never  a  man  who  was  in  this  mob  to- 
night utter  my  son's  name  again,  or  by  the  God 
who  rules  over  us,  I  will  kill  him !  "  A  breath 
like  a  shudder  passed  over  the  rabble,  and  Waters 
went  on,  "I  have  lost  and  I  have  the  right  to 
demand  the  full  worth  of  my  sacrifice,  and  you 
who  know  my  loss,  have  no  right  to  deny  me 
this."  He  moved  up  beside  Kobert,  and  putting 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  said,  "  This  man  shall 
stand  to  me  in  lieu  of  the  son  I  have  lost,  and 
his  empty  sleeve  shall  be  the  sign  of  an  eternal 
compact  between  us,  the  badge  of  honor  which 
it  is.  He  is  mine,  not  yours.  Mine,  by  the 
blood  of  my  son,  mine  by  the  void  in  my  heart. 
Touch  him,  if  you  dare  I  Go  home,"  and  he 
began  moving  down  the  steps,  his  whip  grasped 
tightly  in  his  hand.  "  Go  home,  I  say,  or  I'll 
whip  you  there." 


304  THE  FANATICS 

The  mob  fell  back,  and  just  then  the  orderly 
tramping  of  feet  was  heard  and  a  rush  was  made 
in  an  opposite  direction  as  the  police  arrived  on 
the  scene,  late  and  reluctant. 

The  four  turned  and  went  silently  into  the 
house.  They  sat  silent,  too,  in  the  library,  all 
too  tense  for  speech,  until  Waters  said,  "  Come, 
Mary,  let  us  go.  You  need  have  no  fear  of 
further  trouble.  Bob,  the  captain  will  be  about. 
Steve,  I  disagree  with  you  very  much  in  your 
last  article  in  the  Diurnal,  You  are  all  wrong, 
but  1*11  talk  to  you  about  that  to-morrow.  Good- 
night. Come,  Mary.  It  is  strange  how  fanatical 
some  men  will  be  on  a  subject." 


CHAPTEK  XXY 

CONCLUSION 

In  the  after  days,  it  was  as  Bradford  "Waters 
had  said,  and  Kobert  Van  Doren  experienced  no 
further  trouble  at  the  hands  of  the  mob.  In- 
deed, no  man  was  willing  to  be  known  as  having 
been  a  member  of  the  party.  When  it  was  talked 
about  in  public,  men  turned  their  faces  away  and 
did  not  meet  each  others'  eyes.  In  so  small  a 
town,  it  was  inevitable  that  many  of  the  partici- 
pants in  such  an  affair  should  be  known,  but  no 
name  was  ever  mentioned,  and  the  matter  was 
not  pressed.  However,  there  was  something  sus- 
picious about  the  manner  in  which  some  men 
avoided  Bradford  Waters,  and  kept  silent  when 
others  spoke  his  son's  name. 

In  the  close  counsels  which  took  place  between 
the  two  families,  formerly  so  far  apart,  Robert 
had  suggested  that  perhaps  it  would  be  better 
for  him  to  go  away  from  Dorbury  to  some  place 
where  he  was  not  known ;  but  both  Waters  and 
his  father  strenuously  objected  to  that. 

"  No,"  said  the  latter,  "  there  are  times  when 

305 


306  THE  FAKAT1C8 

concessions  must  be  made  to  the  prejudices  of 
people.  There  are  other  times  when  it  is  no  less 
than  righteous  to  ride  them  down." 

"Your  father  is  right.  Had  I  lived  in  the 
South  with  my  early  training  and  bent  of 
thought,  I  should  have  had  no  better  sense 
than  to  stand  up  for  my  principles  just  as  he 
did.  I  should  have  resented  any  Southerner's 
question  of  my  right  to  do  so.  The  trouble  with 
us  all  is  that  we  will  not  allow  others  the  right 
which  we  demand  for  ourselves." 

"I  think  the  trouble  with  us  all  is  that  we 
talk  a  great  deal  about  free  thought  and  free 
speech,  meaning  that  others  shall  have  both  as 
long  as  they  think  and  speak  as  we  do.  No, 
Kob,  you  stay  right  here.  Dorbury's  got  to  ac- 
cept you  just  as  you  are." 

And  Kobert  stayed.  There  were  those  who 
looked  askance  at  him,  and  those  who  could  not 
be  reconciled  to  him,  but  no  one  troubled  him. 
As  the  war  drew  to  a  close,  and  the  continued 
victories  of  the  Union  filled  the  people  with  en- 
thusiasm, they  even  began  to  grow  friendly  to- 
w^ards  him,  but  he  was  slow  to  receive  their  ad- 
vances. He  was  much  with  Mary  and  the  stream 
of  their  love  that  had  been  so  turbulent,  now 
flowed  smoothly  and  sweetly.  Together,  they 
tried  to  cheer  J^annie.  "  Cheer "  is  hardly  the 
word  either,  for  she  had  never  lost  a  certain 


CONCLUSION  307 

lightness  of  spirit  that  would  not  let  her  be  en- 
tirely cast  down.  But  they  tried  to  bring  back 
the  old  gayety  of  her  manner  that  had  been  her 
chief  charm.  She  was  now  back  and  forth  be- 
tween the  Waters'  and  her  own  home,  and  was 
full  of  the  sweetness  of  good  words  and  good 
works  on  every  hand.  She  was  called  "  Little 
Miss  Nannie,"  and  men  had  already  begun  to 
pay  to  her  that  delicate  deference  which  is 
given  to  a  woman  who  will  never  marry.  She 
was  always,  and  would  always  be  "  Miss  Nannie." 

"  I  wish,  Nannie,"  Mary  said  to  her  one  day, 
"  that  I  could  give  you  a  part  of  my  happiness." 
Nannie  laughed. 

"  You  poor  child,"  she  said,  "  don't  you  know 
that  I  am  very  happy.  I  am  happier  than  any 
one  could  ever  imagine.  I  have  a  lover  who 
will  always  be  young  and  a  love  that  cannot 
grow  cold.  Don't  worry  about  me,  I  am  blest 
beyond  most  women." 

So  they  let  her  go  her  way  and  their  hearts 
ceased  to  ache  for  her  as  they  saw  how  cheerful 
she  grew  with  the  joy  of  doing  good.  So  Nannie 
began,  and  so  she  went  on  through  the  years  until 
the  end,  like  a  fair  flower  dying  away  in  its  own 
perfume.  There  was  no  selfishness  in  her  sub- 
dued sweetness,  for  when  the  soldiers  came  back- 
no  one  was  dearer  to  them  than  their  dead  cap- 
tain's sweetheart. 


308  THE  FANATICS 

The  horror  of  the  war  has  been  written  of,  the 
broken  homes  and  the  broken  hearts,  but  many  a 
life  was  made  sweeter  for  the  fiery  trial  through 
which  it  passed.  Stephen  Yan  Doren  was 
stern  and  implacable  until  the  end.  Eobert  was 
with  him  when  the  news  of  the  surrender  came. 
A  shiver  passed  over  his  body  as  if  he  himself. 
were  the  Confederacy  which  was  dying.  Then 
he  took  his  son's  hand,  and  said  with  a  smile, 
"Well,  a  principle  has  been  tested  and  failed. 
We  must  submit  to  the  inevitable.  From  now 
on — it  is  the  Union,"  and  he  opened  his  window 
to  hear  the  bells  and  whistles  that  proclaimed 
the  people's  rejoicings. 

The  war  was  ended,  but  there  were  gaping 
wounds  to  bind  up  and  deep  sores  that  needed 
careful  nursing.  The  country  had  been  drenched 
with  fraternal  blood  and  the  stench  of  it  was  an 
ill  savor  in  the  nostrils  of  both  North  and  South. 
Grant  was  a  hero,  but  men  were  asking,  "  What 
is  McClellan  ?  "  The  homecoming  soldiers,  worn 
and  weary  with  the  long  campaign,  were  being 
dropped  along  the  wayside  from  every  train. 
Some  homes  were  hung  with  evergreens  for  glad- 
ness and  others  were  draped  with  cypress  for 
those  who  would  never  come  back.  Dorbury  had 
its  share  of  joy  and  grief.  There  were  returns 
and  there  were  messages  from  those  who  would 
not  return;  from  lovers,  husbands,  fathers  and 


CONCLUSION  309 

brothers.  But  above  the  note  of  sadness  was  one 
of  joy,  for  joy  is  more  persistent  than  grief,  if 
shorter  lived. 

A  little  after  Appomattox,  Robert  and  Mary 
were  married  and  went  to  live  in  a  little  home  of 
their  own  where  the  two  fathers  were  destined 
to  come  many  an  evening  thereafter  to  fight 
over  the  war,  talk  politics  and  wrangle  as 
heartily  as  ever. 

Down  in  Virginia  wounded  and  broken  and 
sore,  her  heart  bleeding  for  her  lost  cause  and 
her  lost  sons ;  her  fields  devastated,  and  her  re- 
sources depleted,  a  solemn  tone  characterized  the 
thanksgiving  for  the  war's  end.  Walter  Stewart 
thanked  God  for  the  triumph  of  the  Union,  but 
wept  for  the  grief  of  his  state.  Just  about  the 
time  that  Eobert  and  Mary  were  united,  he  and 
Dolly  were  married  in  the  little  vine-covered 
church  by  the  rector  who  had  looked  askance  at 
him  a  few  years  before. 

And  they  were  happy  with  the  happiness  of 
youth.  Nelson  Etheridge  had  come  back  safe. 
Dr.  Daniel,  now  with  a  major's  stripes,  walked 
much  in  the  garden  with  Emily,  from  whom,  be- 
fore going  away,  he  had  gained  a  certain 
promise. 

Stewart  had  indeed  come  to  his  own  again, 
and  he  would  have  been  a  delight  to  his  father's 
eyes  could  the  old  colonel  have  seen  him  riding 


310  THE  FANATICS 

about  the  plantation  among  the  negroes  who  re- 
mained, and  directing  the  repair  of  the  damages 
which  the  war  had  made.  He  would  never  go 
back  to  Dorbury  now,  but  his  memory  oft  re- 
verted to  the  old  scenes  and  old  acquaintances. 
His  description  of  Nigger  Ed  had  so  pleased 
Dolly  that  it  resulted  in  the  receipt  of  the  follow- 
ing letter  by  that  gentleman  one  day  in  Dor- 
bury : 

"  My  Dear  Ed  : — You  will  remember  me  as 
one  of  the  boys  who  used  to  run  around  the 
streets  after  you  years  ago,  and  later  as  one  of 
the  First,  when  you  were  in  command.  If  you 
will  come  down  here  where  there  are  lots  of  your 
people,  I'll  give  you  a  position  on  my  plantation 
where  you  won't  be  teased.  Let  me  know  if  you 
will  come.  It  will  be  much  better  than  going 
about  ringing  an  old  bell. 

"  Walter  Stewart." 

With  this  letter  the  negro  marched  into  the 
office  of  one  of  Dorbury's  young  lawyers  one 
day.     The  lawyer  had  been  with  the  First. 

"  I  want  you  to  read  dis  an'  answeh  it,  mistah 
— 'scuse  me — lootenant." 

The  young  fellow  took  it  and  his  face  flushed 
as  he  read  it. 

"  Uh  huh,"  said  Ed,  "  now  you  answer  it,  please 
suh." 

"  All  right,"  the  young  fellow  scribbled  for  a 


CONCLUSION  311 

moment,  and  then  turned  saying,  "  I  think  you'd 
better  make  it  a  telegram,  Ed." 

"Wha'fu'?" 

"  Shorter,  more  expressive." 

"Les'hyeahit." 

The  young  man  picked  up  the  slip  of  paper 
and  read  slowly  and  carefully,  "Mr.  Walter 
Stewart,  Stewart  House,  Kockford  Co.,  Virginia. 
You  be  damned." 

Ed  started  as  if  he  had  been  shot,  and  then 
said  hastily,  "  Oh,  no,  lootenant.  I  reckon  I 
won't  send  dat.     A  telegram's  too  'spressive." 

"  How  dare  he  send  for  you  ?  "  the  young  man 
broke  in.  "  You  belong  to  Dorbury.  You're  a 
part  of  it." 

"Yes,  co'se  I  is,  but  I  wants  to  be  'spressive 
and  curtchus  too.  Jes'  you  write  an'  tell  him 
some'p'n  'bout  me  wanting  to  'tain  my  'ficial 
position." 

This  advice  was  taken  and  the  result  was  that 
Walter  threw  the  household  into  convulsions 
over  an  epistle  couched  in  the  most  elegant  lan- 
guage which  informed  Mr.  Stewart  that  while  he 
appreciated  the  very  kind  offer,  the  writer — Ed 
couldn't  write  a  line — preferred  to  retain  his 
official  position,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  emol- 
uments thereof  had  been  materially  increased. 

And  it  was  true.     There  were  men  who  had 


312  THE  FANATICS 

seen  that  black  man  on  bloody  fields,  which  were 
thick  with  the  wounded  and  dying,  and  these 
could  not  speak  of  him  without  tears  in  their  eyes. 
There  were  women  who  begged  him  to  come  in 
and  talk  to  them  about  their  sons  who  had  been 
left  on  some  Southern  field,  wives  who  wanted  to 
hear  over  again  the  last  words  of  their  loved 
ones.  And  so  they  gave  him  a  place  for  life  and 
everything  he  wanted,  and  from  being  despised 
he  was  much  petted  and  spoiled,  for  they  were 
all  fanatics. 


THE  END 


2n^77^'^ 


at^\ 


